The Edge
by Kittykraze
Summary: The General makes an unexpected visit to his son in Kandahar but the growing tension between the two cause heated arguments and careless mistakes, nothing short of taking a life. When one of their own turns viciously against them, can father and son set aside their differences to protect each other?
1. Of a Shock

_The Edge_

_**The Edge: Of a Shock**_

KANDAHAR, Afghanistan

Sam sits inside his best friend's hospital room waiting for Matt to awake from surgery, rubbing his hands through his thick dirty-blonde hair matted with sweat from the day's stressful activities. Matt's eyes slowly begin to flutter open but when the bright, desert sunlight filters through, he quickly shuts them again in attempts to block out the burning glare.

"Sa – Sammy?" His voice asks weakly.

"Yeah buddy, I'm right here. You're gonna be just fine, Mattie. You're alright." The blonde consoles his puzzled friend. Sam strokes his brown hair off his forehead, brushing his bangs aside. He presses his lips into Matt's forehead, attempting to give his friend a reassuring kiss but worry settles in as he feels a high fever rising.

"How's your shoulder holding up?" Sam asks, concern running deep in those kind, crystal blue eyes.

Matthew shifts uncomfortably, adverting his gaze ashamedly. While on patrol with Sam earlier this morning, they found themselves suddenly under enemy fire and Matt's left shoulder had nearly been blown off in the shoot-out. He was extremely thankful Sam had not been injured but he was overwhelmed by guilt for endangering both of their lives.

"It's okay." He states softly.

"No, it's not. You're in pain. I'll get the nurse." Sam decides.

"No! I'm fine. Sammy – please. C'mon man, I'm alright. Really, I am." Matt tries his best to defend himself but to his dismay, knowingly fails miserably.

"Really? Wow, Mattie. That was sad, even for you." Sam chuckles gently.

"Yeah, it was." He mutters sheepishly.

"Remember all those times you told me that taking pain medication doesn't make you any less of a man?" His friend nods gingerly. "Well, I think it's time you take your own advice, buddy." Sam states firmly but his eyes full of laughter.

Matthew can't help but chuckling at his 'famous' words of wisdom. "I figured that would eventually come back around to bite me in the ass." He laughs. "I guess you can drug me up now." He sighs in a mocking tone but Sam can tell he's grateful for the coming relief to his agony.

"I'll be right back, Mattie." Sam says smiling as he exits the room to find a nurse.

He arrives a few minutes later with a pretty dark-haired nurse only to find Matt's face twisted in excruciatingly sharp pain coursing through his shoulder. Sam's stomach somersaults with anxiety as he witnesses his friend's horrible pain.

"Mattie?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper. The other twenty-one year old can only grimace through eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"It's alright, Matt. This is going to make you feel better, sweetie." The nurse murmurs as she administers the medication.

After a few moments, his eyes begin to peel open, his pain level dropping significantly. He stares dumbly at the nurse, drinking in the beautiful sight. Sam clears his throat attracting both parties' attention.

"Matt, what happened, buddy? You looked awful!" He exclaims. The nurse quietly nods gently to Matthew before slipping out of the room. "Matt. Hello? Earth to Matt!" Sam presses waving his hands in front of his best friend's eyes.

"Huh?" He blinks.

"What happened? Why were you in so much pain all of a sudden like that?" Sam demands.

"I – I don't know. I guess I tried to reach for my water and it was a little too far away." He answers, his eyes cast downwards.

"Matthew Elliot MacLance!" Sam exclaims. "That – that…why would you do that?" He fumes. "I was coming right back, Superman! You could've waited and asked me, you meat-head! And look! Now you have hurt yourself trying to do something stupid! Something I would've been glad to do for you! I should've just let you suffer in your own self-imposed misery." He growls.

Matt winces. He didn't know Sam would get this heated. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to help." His soft voice is thick of shame and sorrow. "You've been doing everything for me and I thought I could do this on my own. I didn't want you to feel like you had to be here every second to take care of me. That's all, Sammy, honest. I didn't want to make you angry." He explains, hurt running deep in his thin voice.

Sam closes his eyes, sighing. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. I don't know why I got so upset. I just don't want you to get any more injured, especially over something dumb." Matt does not look very convinced so he continues. "Hey, I'm not mad at you, Mattie. I'm just mad at myself for not being here to get your water for you. It's okay, buddy. It's all going to be okay." He gently embraces Matt, hoping to make up for his brash reaction. Matt returns the gesture, eagerly making up to his friend, gladly forgiving the misunderstanding and Sam's occasional overprotectiveness.

After a few minutes pass, Sam asks, "So, is there anything else I can get you?"

"Yeah, actually. Could you find out what that nurse's name is? She's really hot." Matt's eyes dance with excitement.

The blonde laughs. "Anything _else_?"

Matt shakes his head. "No, man, I'm being serious. I really want her name, Sam! I think she's really, really hot and I don't want to sound like an idiot not knowing what her name is if I talk to her! C'mon Sammy, please? I'd do it myself but…" he trails off, glancing over his hospital gown clad body and menagerie of wires and tubes connected to his bruised tender skin.

"Matthew you're pathetic!" Sam exclaims laughing, unable to resist his friend's adorable 'sad puppy-dog' face. "Of course I'll try to get her name for you, buddy." He says sweetly, gently squeezing Matt's left thigh, ruffling his dark brown hair and leaving to find his friend's sudden major love interest.

Down by the nurse's station, Sam finds the attractive brunette with sun-kissed skin chatting with her coworkers.

"Ahem, excuse me, ma'am?" Sam interrupts as politely as he can.

"Yes?" She asks. "You're Matt's friend Sam, right? Is he okay?" She implores immediately.

"Oh, erm, yes, Matt's fine. It's just that, Mattie is – well, really interested in you. He wants to talk to you but he doesn't know your name and doesn't want to feel like an ignorant idiot asking for it. He thinks you're really beautiful and frankly, you intimidate him to the point where he's too nervous to ask." He laughs a tad nervous himself, not wishing to blow this for Matt. "He's a really sweet kid and even if you discover you don't like him like that, he's still a great friend to have, real loyal and cautious. Believe me, he would _never_ make any type of move on you that would make you uncomfortable in the least."

She genuinely laughs and nods at Sam's kind but slightly forceful attempt to 'sell' his best friend's personality. "Yes, Matt does certainly seem like a real sweetheart…and it's adorable that he wanted you to get my name for him." She smiles, a gesture Sam returns fingering through his blonde mane. "Well, I guess I ought to pay Matthew a little personal visit, check him out for myself. Thank you, Sam; you're a very good friend." She smiles, walking in the direction of Matt's room.

"Um, ma'am!" He calls frantically, remembering something important he should mention. Her bouncy brunette locks swirls in front of her gorgeous face as she spins around to hear Sam's final request. "Hey, don't mention this to Matt, okay? I know that would mean a lot to him if you didn't. I mean, it would mean a ton if you went to talk to him regardless." He flashes a pearly smile, his blue eyes shimmering.

She nods politely. "I know, and I won't tell." She gives him a smile and continues en route to her 'patient's' room.

Sam breathes a heavy sigh of relief, thankful he didn't blow this and praying this will go well. He starts to the cafeteria not having much to eat all day when he spots an oddly familiar figure speaking with a receptionist; a tall man with a muscular build in a stiff black uniform and a head of thick blonde hair standing before him.

"Dad?" Sam asks as he approaches.

The man whirls around at the sound of his son's voice, quickly hiding his surprise of Sam's presence. "Sammy!" He exclaims, stepping forward to give a warm embrace.

The younger Braddock stands quite stiff and unsure of his father's sudden emotional move, but quickly finds his muscles to return a small hug.

"What are you doing here, Dad?" Sam hisses his words laced with urgency as they separate and ushers the General down the hall. It hits him then just exactly why his father has suddenly appeared in Kandahar. "He's in room 253." He states solemnly.

"What?" The General asks in seemingly mock confusion.

"Don't play dumb with me. Matt's in room 253. He's stable and resting but I'm sure he'll be _delighted_ to see you." Sam states in somewhat of a sad/snarky tone.

"Sammy! I came to see you, my boy!" He exclaims, gazing lovingly at his son, though sincerity was lacking.

Sam's face clouds as dark, grey thunderheads roll across his clear blue eyes. "No, you heard Matt had been hurt and you came to see _him_. You were clearly surprised to find me here, though I don't know why that would be the case. Why would I be distanced from my injured best friend?" He states, a bite of anger following his words.

The General sighs, running his hands though his hair in irritation as if to clear his mind and aide in his choice of upcoming words, a habit Sam had inherited.

"Sammy, that's not true. I had no idea about the incident until I discovered you were not in your rooms nor on patrol." He explains softly, yet firmly stating his innocence of the accusation.

"You went to our room!" Sam roars. "You could've been killed on the walk from the gate to the compound! It would've been just as easy to have checked with our C.O.!"

"Samuel! Be quiet! This is a _hospital_ for God's sake. Wounded soldiers are trying to rest." He hisses. "Be _respectful_ of their recovery."

He bites his tongue using all his willpower to _not_ roll his eyes in disgust. "My apologies, sir." He mutters through gritted teeth.

"Thank you. Now why would you think I would only come to see Mattie?" General Braddock asks innocently.

"Oh, I don't know sir. Maybe because he is the _favourite_ son? Unless you have a better explanation for all the special father-son activities you always do with him, not bothering to spend any time whatsoever with _me_. No, I'm just the robot-boy you get to order around like you do everyone else, but Matt, oh Matt's _special_ isn't he? He's the perfect little son you've always dreamed of but you got stuck with this worthless piece of belligerent garbage instead, didn't you?" He growls motioning towards himself, more hurt than anger resounding in the air.

Braddock senior is quite shocked with his son's sudden outburst of hatred and jealousy but he too, can hear the hurt riddling through Sam's words.

"Sammy, _you_ are my son and I love _you_, Pooh Bear." The General states softly, placing gentle hands on his son's shoulders, strategically bringing Sam's childhood nickname into play hoping to arouse some comforting feelings to slightly distract his mind from their bitter quarrel.

"Oh, oh no, don't do that, Dad. Don't pull that card on me. Not the time, Dad and _don't _call me that in public again, alright? It's been an awful long time since I was your 'Pooh Bear' and an equally long time since you've acted as if you loved me at all." Sam says letting his emotions get the best of him, scowling at his internal pain of stating the last part aloud.

The guilt that he had never been good enough for his father, that he'd never done anything right, anything to be proud of, that he never made the right decisions or he did but they were too late; all come bubbling to the surface. Sam can scarcely resist the beckoning urge to start blubbering in his daddy's arms, the feeling of the General's strong hands rubbing his back and being rocked to sleep like a baby. He quickly fights back the emotions, struggling to keep his face from crinkling into tears.

"Oh sweetie, I know we haven't always exactly 'gotten along' but you're always going to be my little Pooh Bear and I love you. To be completely honest, I only came because you haven't been answering any of my message and, well – I grew worried, Sammy. I was worried you had been taken captive or seriously injured, maybe even…dead." Braddock senior squeaks, the backs of his eyes burning with tears as his mind races with his previously terrified manufactured circumstances where his precious little Sammy had been held hostage, brutally tortured ceaselessly, the hostiles using him as leverage to have their demands met and then mercilessly murdering his son no longer needing him having never intended to return Sam in the first place, at least not alive.

"I'm sorry that I made you worry, Dad. I just – I don't know, I have had a lot on my mind recently and I just did not get around to responding. I did not know you were so concerned, though you should not have been, my unit is very capable of protecting me. We protect each other, Dad. No matter what; they have my back and I have theirs."

The General sighs. "I know they do Sammy but as your father, I can't help but worry blindly when my son is in the middle of a war zone, even if I _did_ put you there. You're my baby and I simply cannot bear the thought of you being injured. And yes, I do love Matt. He's your best friend Sammy and I've known him and his father for years. I do feel as if he is another son at times, but you always come first even though it may not seem like it, in everything that is important, you have and will _always_ come first. That I promise you." He states, gripping his son's shoulders and smiling a sad, yet almost proud smile.

"You forgot my birthday, again." Sam's soft voice mumbles.

He adverts his gaze from his father's guilt-ridden, apologetic eyes as ice-cold fingers wrap around his heart in a feeble yet lethal grip as the hurt drips over him again, washing him until he is drowning in his own guilt of his own failures. His father's harsh words from long ago pounding in his head, repeating, seeming as if it were going to explode. Sam feels himself begin to shake and shudder as the black curtain is slowly being pulled down over the world in front of him. He feels hands on his body and his nerves growing numb to them. He hears sounds, shouts, but all are far away. The earth is growing darker and darker, nearly all light is gone. Only pinpricks shine through the cruel jet black curtain; the midnight world is silent, until…

"Samuel! Samuel!" Two desperate, frightened shouts cut sharply through the curtain, through the silent, midnight world.

His nearly closed eyes fly open, blinking hard several times, his brain working furiously to make sense of the picture before him. A face, a very close face, a very close, upset face, a very close, upset, familiar face staring down at him. Who is this face? Where has he seen this face before? It looks…it looks much like his own. Who could it be? Who was he with? Where was he in the first place? Was he talking to someone? Who was that someone? All of these questions spin rapidly around his head causing him to grow extremely nauseated. So nauseous that the contents of his mostly empty stomach are emptied onto the section of flooring adjacent himself. Words. Words being said. Incoherent words that bring more strange faces. The world now stands still. It stands still just as Sam had been taught to stand still at attention when he was four years old is how still it stands.

'_But who are these people? What are these words? Are they being said to me?_' Sam wonders. _'Dad!'_ A sudden burst of recognition floods him.

He struggles for breath, fighting viciously against whatever is holding his body down. "Dad!" He gasps. "Daddy -" He trails off, his body falling weak and breathless, his eyes threatening to close once more.

Strong hands wrap around his face, stroking his cheek and hair. Only then in his half-conscious state does Sam realize his head is laying in his father's cross-legged lap. He struggles to sit up, General Braddock gently pushing him back down.

"Samuel, stop fighting me! It's okay, sweetie. Shhh, you're going to be just fine, Sammy." Braddock senior consoles his dazed son. He glances at the doctor crouched next to his ill-fallen son. "How is he doing?"

"Well, General sir, it just appears he simply nearly fainted. Thankfully it was not one of his episodes but he still ought to rest for a while. I will compose a team of my experts to keep a close watch on his condition."

General Braddock nods his approval. "I will stay with him as well." He decides firmly.

The doctor nods in agreement, calling for various items to be brought to him, all incoherent to Sam. The same ruddy-looking doctor, crouches next to him, saying something unknown. Something wet and cold brushes against Sam's warm upper arm causing him to jerk. His father holds him still, murmuring what he assumes are soothing words. The General brushes his fingers against his son's sweaty forehead. Sam feels pinches, sharp things stabbing him, cold metal things poking and prodding; the nerves dulling to the pain, his eyes growing wild and frightened as the world turns blurred and dark. He frantically enlarges his eyes, trying to grasp at the last shards of light shining through a dense, black fog. The vision of his father rubbing the top of his head and his concerned blue eyes gazing into his own fearful, confused ones, fade quickly into the dark nothingness.

THREE HOURS LATER

General Braddock sits in an uncomfortable chair next to his motionless son's hospital bed, his hands holding one of Sam's cold, limp ones, waiting for his son to wake. He had spent the better part of the past three hours crying silently for all of the pain he has caused Sam in his short life. Another birthday had passed, another milestone had come and gone, another event he missed, and it was just one more thing he could add to the list of his failures as a father, especially as Sam's father. He wasn't nearly as bad with Natalie's important dates or birthdays or even Matt's events but for years, he had neglected Sam's. The worst of all was he pretended that what he had missed, didn't matter. Sam's twenty-first birthday had indeed been over two weeks ago and he had completely forgotten about it until a few days afterwards but still did not call or write his son. Perhaps he did not want to make Sam feel as if he had forgotten, or maybe he just simply wanted to ignore the fact that he had failed his son again. The General had missed most of Sam's childhood milestones and birthdays due to work. As he grew into elementary school he missed the majority of his son's big events and when his youngest daughter had been killed while with a nine year old Sam, he completely distanced himself from his only son after beating him senseless for numerous weeks; feeling such guilt for not protecting his daughter and allowing his son to take full responsibility for the tragic accident that was _not_ his fault. General Jason Braddock reminisces those awful days where he used to drink himself into a wild fury before beating a young Sammy unconscious then locking himself in one of the multiple spare bedrooms, sobbing and harming himself for hurting his young son. The vision of his whimpering, bloody son crying for mercy is forever burned in his memory.

"I'm sorry Sammy. I'm so, so sorry, baby." Jason whispers, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes.

Several moments later, the young Special Forces corporal emits a small groan as his body fights to arouse himself through the medication. The General waits in anticipation while his son's eyes slowly peel open, the world still appearing blurred and murky.

"Oh Pooh Bear," Jason murmurs, stroking his blonde locks, planting an unforeseen, loving kiss on his forehead.

Sam tries to push himself upright but to his dismay, his muscles fail him.

"Easy, easy sweetheart. The doctors gave you a heavy sedative so you could rest and valium to ensure you didn't go into a fit. I bet you feel pretty groggy and your muscles rather Jell-O-y, huh Pooh Bear?"

He nods weakly, trying to fight his way through the dense fog that envelopes his brain and make sense of the world. He gazes blearily at his father, blinking slowly.

"Dad?" Sam croaks, his voice breaking.

"I'm right here, Sammy. You're alright." He soothes, brushing through his son's hair separated with sweat and dirt. "Samuel, you're filthy! I will not allow this to carry on. You will be given a sponge bath even if I must do it myself, when you feel up to it of course."

Sam however had lost focus on his father's words and is staring at the variety of tubes and wires connected to his body.

"Have you gone to see Matt?" His wavering voice asks.

Jason swallows before nodding his head slowly. "Yes, I went and saw Matt for a few minutes. A nurse was with him so I let them be."

Sam smiles slightly at the mention of the nurse but it quickly falls to an upset-disappointed in himself frown.

Jason pats his son's leg in a comforting manner. "Matthew will be just fine, Samuel. Don't worry about him, alright? He'll be back out there with you in no time."

The younger Braddock's face crinkles, tears threatening let loose. "But what if he can't, Dad? What if he's never fit enough for duty to go back in the field? He shoulder was almost entirely blown off! This is all he wants to do! He loves this, Daddy!"

"Well, if this is what he wants, then I'll make certain there is a 'non-physical' job ready and waiting for him if he cannot return to the field; but what do you want, Sam?"

His son is rather perplexed by the question. The General had never _asked_ him what he wanted, he just told him what he was going to do. Taking a deep breath, Sam bares all courage.

"I want out, Dad. I hate it here, I hate the war." He states, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I hate seeing my friends hurt and I hate killing little kids 'cause their parents sent them out of the house with a machine gun strapped to their back and tell them to 'go hurt the other bad men,'!" Sam screams, the teardrops falling freely and quickly as he tries to brush them away. "I can't stand it, Daddy! I can't stand it anymore!"

Jason begins tearing up watching his son poor his heart out, worried that he is already in the advance stages of PTSD from the way Sam is talking.

"Sammy? Sammy, does your brain play situations over and over again whenever something bad happens?" His son nods. "Do you hear voices talking to you when that's happening?"

"Yeah, sometimes I hear them talking to me." He admits quietly.

"Sweetheart, do you have…nightmares? A lot?" Jason nervously awaits the answer.

"Dad, I've had nightmares since, since – she…since she died." He glances down, remembering that awful day he forever failed at being the one thing he had to be, a good brother.

The General runs his hands through his hair, then tightly squeezes his son's hand. "Samuel, have – have you spoken to a doctor about this?"

To his surprise, the twenty-one-year-old nods once more.

"No one will talk to me; they all say it's just in my head and I'm making things up, that I'm clinically crazy, somebody told me."

Jason shakes his head in disbelief at the "treatment" his son has been receiving from who are supposed to be some of the best psychologists in the military. "I'm going to get you the help you may, or may not, need, regardless; just – just remember that, that I love you Sammy, no matter what."

Twenty minutes later, the General had found the one psychologist that Sam had _not_ seen and promptly brought him into his son's room. Sam was nearly asleep when a large hand gentle shook him awake.

After a series of questions groggily answered by Master Corporal Braddock, the tan doctor and the General stepped out of the room.

"Has he experienced anything before this that may have been even the least bit traumatic?" He asks gently.

"His younger sister was killed in front of him when he was nine." The General answers softly, a sick-guilt feeling bubbling up inside of him.

"Did he ever receive any counselling for that?"

"Uh, no, sir, he didn't."

"Oh, well I understand that must've been a horrible time of grief for you and your family and I see how it may have been easy to let your son's mental health slip by. However sir, I must tell you that Samuel is indeed in the advance stages of PTSD and will need immediate treatment in the form of medication, counselling and a very strong support group around him to help him keep wanting to continue with his life. I would also strongly advise you cut his tour short, very short."

The General nods solemnly, wishing he had not been so ignorant to his son's clear and early retreat from the world.

"I will come back later tonight to ask more questions when he is a little more, conscious, per-say; I'll continue that for about a week or so until his answers are less varied among the same questions." The doctor states. "You can get his prescription later tonight, I have to get it shipped from Kabul…, but it will be as high priority as I can make it."

All Jason can do is nod. He is heartbroken and sick, almost to the point of vomiting, for his troubled son whose concerns and emotions have clearly been ignored for his entire life. "Thank you." He whimpers softly, both men parting ways.

Sam is about to tug his nasal cannula out when a strong hand grips his, gently laying it back down onto the white layers of bedding. He stares confusedly up at his father who has just re-entered his room. Jason shakes his head 'no'.

"Leave that on. I'm not taking any chances, Pooh Bear. Insisting on removing that won't be worth you going into fit, especially not after you haven't had one in so long, Sammy. Your medicine has been working very well but I am _not_ going to push the envelope. You mean too much to me. Just try to get some sleep." He strokes Sam's forehead and gives his shoulders a gentle massage.

Sam closes his eyes in relieved pleasure, Jason trying to physically coax his son's body into sleep. The General smiles when Sam's heart and breathing monitor slow to a restful, sleeping beep. The young corporal sleeps peacefully only waking once from a nightmare unseen by his father.

A half hour later, Sam jolts awake, scaring his father who was almost asleep into a near panic attack. His hand press firmly into his son's young body, his arms preparing to hold him down during what he believes is one of Sammy's fits. It takes Sam a few minutes to realize what his father thinks is happening.

"Dad, Dad!" He struggles against the General's strong arms. "Dad! It's okay, I'm not having a seizure, Dad, just calm down."

Jason blinks a few times, his son's words soaking in. "Oh, oh, sorry sweetheart." He stammers. "I just – I, I just thought that…," He trails off.

"It's okay, Dad. I'm fine. I just remembered something that's all."

"Oh…and what was that?"

"That I have patrol at 1545."

"It's 1530, Sammy! You're not well and you're not going." Jason puts his foot down.

"Dad!" Sam whines. "We're spread too thin already with most of our guys injured. They're counting on me, Daddy. Let me do this. Let me do _something_ worth your while."

The General seems to hem and haw in his mind until he makes a decision that will not require him to make the ultimate decision. "I'll call your sergeant. If he's says they'll make do without you, then you _are_ staying here young man, and if, for some reason, they 'need' you – then fine. So be it, but what he says goes, alright?"

Sam nods grudgingly as his father steps out once more to sort things out for him. That is what he disliked most about the General. He either never lets Sam do _anything_ for himself or he makes him do _everything_ when he probably shouldn't be. There was no happy medium. In Jason's perspective, he had pulled every string known to man to get his epileptic son into the military, thankfully, from there on out it was _his_ military so he filtered Sam into Special Forces and JTF2 where he settled down. There is no doubt in anyone's mind how phenomenal of a sniper Sam is. The problem had come when his sixteen-year-old son had been diagnosed with epilepsy as puberty hit him head on, the violent seizures started popping up and progressing, happening more and more often. Directly afterwards, General Jason Braddock had worked extremely hard to A) Keep word of his son's devastating diagnosis from spreading like wildfire if the press caught wind of it and B) Use everything in his power to secure even a short-term position in the military for Sam. Both of these objectives meant spending thousands of dollars (yes, I'm from the USA :P) on personal concierge doctors, different medications and countless late-night visits to the base hospital where his son's condition would be kept exceptionally private. It was only until Samuel was eighteen years old when they had finally found a medication that worked to keep the Grand Mal (tonic clonic) seizures at bay. He spent two years in training at Ottawa before Jason had been able to get his son into one year of field training on their Kandahar base in Afghanistan. This is his first official tour and of course, Jason did not want his son to be injured but he also did not want to throw away the years of work and money he had put into this.

"…Alright. Yes, I understand. Just – are you _absolutely positive_ that you need him?"

The sergeant answers and the General sighs.

"Yes, I'll send him over." A pause. "Oh, no mark him late if he's tardy. If he's foolish enough to be late, then he deserves a detention. Yes, I'm sure. Thank you." Jason runs his hands through his hair. This was exactly what he _did not_ want. He did not want Sammy in the field so soon; he had nearly lost consciousness and is still not convinced that his son won't go into a fit if his body is too stressed.

He walks back into Sam's room, finding his son is already sitting upright, no doubt struggling to do so on his own.

"C'mon son, get dressed." He states, helping Sam to his feet, deaf to his indignant protests. "Don't be late!" He calls down the hall.

Sam breathes a heavy sigh of relief as he steps out the hospital doors and jumps onto a passing Humvee for a ride closer to where he has to be. He's certainly glad to be out of the hospital and out of his father's close watch.

He scurries into his position in the line mere seconds before he would marked as an unlawful tardy, also receiving a detention. Despite that his last name begins with the second letter of the alphabet, his sergeant tends to go in order the units, Sam's being one of the last. Just as he is nearing Sam's name, a body steps close to him, coming from behind, the two bumping gently.

'_Just some new kid that doesn't know how to stand for attendance.'_ Sam scoffs.

Oddly enough, whoever it is doesn't step back into their respective place. The young corporal waits a few seconds before turning to the soldier, agitated. He does a double-take of the older gentleman adjacent.

"Dad?!" Sam hisses.

The older man turns his head to face the corporal, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?!" He whispers in a furious hiss.

"36587 – Braddock!" A loud voice calls.

"Yes Sir!" Sam barks robotically in return before quickly turning back to his father.

"I'm going on patrol with you, Sammy." Jason states quietly.

Sam stands there fuming for a few moments. No. His father will not humiliate him like this. This is _his_ job and he knows what he's doing. The twenty-one-year-old sets off a brisk trot when given the green light, hoping his father would have half the sense of a Billy-goat and go back to the hospital. Much to his disappointment, the General just keeps plodding along behind him, trying to keep up with the fast pace Sam has set.

"Samuel! Slow down! This isn't a race, Sammy!" Jason calls breathlessly, realizing just how out-of-shape he really is for field work.

Another set of ten minutes pass before Sam slows to a reasonable pace the considerably older Braddock can keep up with.

"Now what's the big idea, Sam? What did I say?" The General pants.

Sam whirls around. "Do you have any idea on how big and how many targets you have on your head out here? Do you have any idea on how many targets you've put on _me_?! Not to mention Mattie too! You know, I'm not so convinced that he was shot by random this morning. You could get yourself killed, at best, here. And I guess you screwed your famous little idea of wanting to _protect_ me! That sure didn't last long, did it? Yeah, come out here Dad, in the middle of a war zone as the General of the entire Canadian Army. Are you insane?! But even better, you come out here strolling alongside _me_! It's not like _everyone_ knows your face and mine by memory or anything!" He shouts. "You should've stayed with Matt. He would've been appreciative of your company." He states much softer before facing forward again, beginning to walk on.

"Samuel! That's not fair! I didn't come on patrol with you because I wanted to make you a bigger target or put you in harm's way. I came because I'm still worried about you, Sammy! What if you had another seizure?" Jason croaks.

"And what are _you_ going to do about?! Hold me down and freak out?! Never let me out of your sight again?! I'm an adult, Dad. You have to let me do things on my own or I'm never going to know how to do it."

He continues to walk, scanning the horizon for insurgents' gun muzzles. The General hurries after his son. They proceed in silence for another twenty minutes. Jason seems to be focused only on his son, oblivious to danger that surrounds him.

Sam suddenly spots the lethal glint of a sniper barrel on a high ridge a few hundred meters away. He instantly drops to the desert floor, gun raised, body on high alert. Jason stands dumbly directly in the line of fire, staring at his son's crouched position. Sam's heartbeats sound loudly in his ears, the world spinning into slow motion.

"DAD!" He shouts, realizing that his father does not recognize the danger in the hills.

The General's head turns slowly to his son then back to the insurgent. Sam's breath catches in his throat as the moments pass in a desperate haze; the younger willing his father to get down. Making a split-second decision, he leaps up to tackle the General, hoping to spare him from harm.

Two loud shots ring out.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Cliffy? Hehehe! Story title and subtitles inspired by U2…I listen to a lot of music ;). This story won't be long 3 chapters is what I'm aiming for. Please review! Thank you!_


	2. Of a Recovery

_**The Edge: Of a Recovery**_

KANDAHAR, Afghanistan

Two loud shots ring out. Two groans sounds. Two bodies fall.

Sam's eyes pop open. As he gingerly pushes himself up, he remembers the body of his father underneath him, not moving.

"Dad? Dad!" He shouts softly.

He grabs ahold of his father's head, pulling the tactical helmet off his sweaty head. It lays heavily in Sam's lap, his face pale and still.

"Daddy?" Sam's stomach flips with worry. He strokes his father's hair before tapping his cheek frantically and calling over the com-links for immediate preparation at the hospital.

Within seconds, he finds two bullet wounds: one in his father's chest, the other in his abdomen. After carefully removing the Kevlar vest, he only finds the exit wound from the lower shot. The slug is still in his father's chest. Sam does his best to bandage the General's wounds, using both of their emergency field kits and gently replaces the vest. As he is about to lift his unconscious father over his shoulders, Jason's eyes begin to flutter open.

"Daddy!" Sam breathes in relief, nuzzling his father's grey face.

A wave of pain crashes over the elder as he attempts not to vomit, cursing quietly at his own stupidity. Sammy _was_ right. He _is_ in very much danger. He has been out of the field for too long, he has lost his lightning-fast reflexes, he has lost his ability to spot the glint of a sniper barrel; and because of all his 'un-fitness' he has put his beloved son in extreme danger, possibly causing him harm as well.

"Sammy are you hurt." Jason demands. His son does not respond, his blank eyes seemingly scanning for the shooter. He can tell Sam's medicine is wearing off but he needs to be certain he is not hurt. "Sam!" He shouts, grabbing his son's arm.

Sam freezes before frantically wrenching his arm out of his father's grip.

"I'm fine." He whines softly. "Come on, I have to get you out of here. You're bleeding too much, Daddy."

His young son attempts to pick him up to carry him back to the compound but he quickly refuses Sam's help, walking – gingerly – but still walking at a semi-brisk pace, back in the direction of his son's compound. Sam's arm wraps firmly around his back, trying to support the father that means so much to him. Jason is fading steadily in the height of the highest heat of the burning desert sun. Sam can hear his father laboring for every gasping breath.

Thirty minutes pass.

Sam stumbles. Gasps. Pain. Gritted teeth. Keep moving.

Six miles away.

'_Hold on.' _

Another hour.

Five and a half miles.

'_Stay focused.' _

Forty minutes.

Five miles.

'_Keep walking.'_

Jason's self-perseverant thoughts seem futile. Blood is soaking through his son's crude bandages. Breath catches in his throat, the sun is too bright. _'Which way is up? Where is the sky supposed to be? Where is the sky?!' _ His weak mind no longer able to distinguish the slight difference between the sea of endless grains of sand and the hazy, tan sky. Clouds were rare, at best. Blue sky, even rarer. At last, his body fails him, refuses to move. Still. There in the sand, he lay still. His chest aches. _ 'Heart hurts. It's over. Can't. Make – it. Can't. Move.'_ He thinks, his thoughts as blurred as the sickening, swirling mirage of the desert above him. _'Close your eyes. It's over. Sam! Sam. I hope he understands. Hope he – takes care of himself.'_

Sam watches his father's eyes close in shock.

"Dad! Daddy! No! No! Stay with me!" He shouts, pressing his hands in his father's wounds. When the elder man's clear blue eyes fail to open, Sam's lip quivers uncontrollably. "Dad, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Daddy! I – I always loved you, Daddy. I'm sorry I never told you." He sobs feeling the weak, erratic beat in his neck, not knowing how much longer his father would make it but to Sam, he was already gone. His father – the only father he would have in the whole wide world – was gone…and Sam was the only one who could have saved him; but he couldn't. His father was dying because of him; dying right in front of him. Canada's army would no longer have their general because Sam couldn't save him.

This was one of the many occasions throughout Sam's life where he wished his cognitive function at that moment was higher than it had been, wished his medicine was in his system more and hadn't worn off or hadn't kicked in yet. These were the moments Sam knew he was absolutely helpless. If the unthinkable happened, _he_ would be the only one to blame. He couldn't even begin to think of his life without his father; without his protection; without his hidden love Sam had learned to recognize. The simple inkling of the idea brings burning tears to the back of his retinas.

Gently, he lifts his unconscious father, staggering under the dead weight. As he places the General across his shoulders, a vicious, ripping pain tears through his lower abdomen, forcing him to cry out.

'_Hernia.'_ Sam thinks once the pain has subsided a bit.

_He had had one when he was fourteen years old from incorrectly lifting a ridiculously heavy air conditioner out of the window due to the fall weather. His doctor had pushed it back into place with a strict warning: learn how to lift heavy objects properly or don't lift them at all. Sam could have only wished the story ended there. In the process of tearing his thinned abdominal muscle, he had dropped the A.C. onto the newly paved driveway, creating chips and huge ruts in the asphalt as well as demolishing the unit. His father had been furious, roughly dragging him out of the house, dislocating his shoulder in the process. Jason had thrown his young son to the pavement, skin scrapped against asphalt, cutting his delicate natural protection. The older military man had then begun to beat Sam, screaming at him for ruining the just-finished driveway. He was beaten forever, it seemed to the teenager. Jason had only stopped when the teen's shouts of anger and pain had turned into nearly silent, choked whimpers. He left in a rage of fury, leaving Sam lying almost motionless in the driveway. Blood gushed from his broken nose, busted lip and cut face. Hot, salty tears dripped onto the pavement warm with his own blood. His father remained entirely unaware of his son's injury that caused him to drop the air conditioning unit and ruin the driveway in the first place._

_Jason brooded all night, feeling awful for he had done to his son. He waited hours for the front door to open, signaling Sam was back in the house, back in his territory to negotiate with the young teenager. He did not want to approach him outside. Outside was Sam's territory. His son could easily get spooked and run, and therefore __**out**__run him. Or, Sam might have gone to Matt's house to calm himself down – get some help and bandages for his cuts. _

'_Matthew's father is more than capable of popping his shoulder back into place and cleaning up a few scrapes.' Jason had thought, "knowing" his son's injuries._

_The hours had continued to drag on and Sam still was not in the house, nor had he received any messages from Matt's father that he was with them. Jason was growing panicked but sheer exhaustion from sleepless nights overseas quickly overtook him, putting his mind at ease as he forgot about his son. _

'_Sam has spent nights on his own before.' He reminded himself as his brain was involuntarily turning off._

_In the early grasps of dawn, Jason had awoken. He remembered the previous day's events and hurried to his son's room. Glancing rapidly around it he found no sign of Sam or his return: his bed was neatly made exactly how it had been the day before, no new clothes were found in his hamper. Jason was panicking. He frantically raced down the hall to the large window that exposed the driveway, front lawn of the estate and black wrought iron gate surrounding the property. To his horror, he made out the slumped figure of a body lying in the driveway. His stomach flipped as he raced out of the house. _

"_Sam! Sammy!" He screamed his son's name over and over, unable to reach his boy fast enough. _

_When he finally reached the figure, his heart wrenched in his chest. Sam's body was cold, his skin grey and clammy. Jason rolled his son onto his back barely resisting the urge to vomit at the sight of blood smeared across his sickly pale face, bits of asphalt and rock embedded in his cheek. If he had not known better, if he was not a trained soldier, he would have immediately concluded that his son was dead. However, he knew better and he was a highly trained soldier so his fingers raced for a pulse, finding a slow, weak beating in his son's neck. Sam's body had gone into shock hours ago in the chilly temperatures and significant blood loss, not to mention the severe pain that erupted across his body each time he contracted even a single muscle._

_Jason stared at him, silent tears rolled down his face as he stroked Sam's thick hair, blood of his own clotted in his locks. His son had spent the entire night outside on the driveway, his baby was unconscious. Yet the worst thought of all was that he, alone, was responsible for doing all of this to Sammy. _

_Sam had woken up eighteen hours later in the hospital; in the base hospital, where Jason did not have to tell the doctor anything and he did not ask anything of him in return. He liked it that way, he liked that his son could receive the necessary treatments no questions asked. Plus, although Sam's 'regular doctor' most certainly knew how his young patient acquired his many broken bones, cuts and contusions, no information, speculation or any other type of gossip would ever be spread about the boy's state after one of his father's drunken (or simply angry) rages because no one, save the doctor and Jason, knew Sam was even at the hospital in the first place._

_He doesn't remember much after he had awoken, as odd as that may sound. Sam remembered being scared, very scared of his father. He also remembered he had attempted to run away from home for fear of being beaten to that degree again with his inevitable next mistake. Jason had been very hurt that his only son had tried to escape the family due to the ceaseless torture he was also unaware of executed by none other than his wife and the beatings he gave out like candy on Halloween (that is if he were ever to participate in the holiday). _

Needless to say, Sam's memories of his first hernia were not pleasant ones yet here he is again, nearly doubled-over in pain from straining it too much again by trying to carry his injured father to the nearest hospital.

'_At least this time, Daddy won't beat me senseless.'_ Sam thinks bitterly. _'He'll be too injured to walk for the next few days; that is, if he's still alive.'_

While reliving parts of his dark teenage years, he has covered another three and a half miles mindlessly. The final stretch, that last mile and a half, Sam begins to jog. His back hurts like hell, his stomach doesn't feel much better but his dad…his dad was just barely hanging on and Sam couldn't live without his dad.

Two hours later, he burst through the door of the compound's hospital. His father is miraculously still alive. The doctors and nurses on duty have been prepared for Jason's injuries. They quickly rush him back to the OR. Sam breaths for the first time in a little over six hours, and then collapses unconscious to the floor.

A group of nurses spot Sam as he falls motionless on the floor. After a quick once-over, they spot his bulging hernia and the bloody, untreated bullet wound in the small of his back, directly next to his spinal cord, praying the small explosion of the bullet entering his body did not nick the vital nerve.

Seven hours later, Jason emerges stable from surgery, not due to awake for another four hours. Eleven hours after their initial arrival, Sam is wheeled out of the operating room unconscious and unstable, but alive. As he is placed on his ICU bed, a clean ventilator is eased down his throat, blood and fluids drip quickly into his arm and hands.

Matt is torn between his "brother" in Post-Op ICU and his "father" in the CCU, so he spends an hour with one and then sees the other for an hour, neither one having awoken yet. He continues for hours until a nurse gently takes him back to his room in a wheelchair after finding him fast asleep in a chair next to his brother's bedside.

Early the next morning, Matthew fights his way to Sam's room, pleased to see his brother is waking up and his ventilator had been removed, an oxygen mask covering his face in its place. Sam's blue eyes open painfully slow as Matt waits in anxious anticipation. He gives a weak cough and turns his face to see who is squeezing the life out of his hand (although he expects it be his brother). Matt's dark brown eyes shimmer in delight, his wide smile glistening throughout his entire face. Their eyes lock, deep brown on drained blue. Suddenly, Matt can't wait any longer. He gently grabs ahold of Sam's face and plants kisses all over his brother's forehead and cheeks, pulling the O2 mask down, their lips press against the others. It all ended too soon for Sam.

"I love you. I love you so much." Matt breathes. "I thought I was going to lose you, Sammy." Held back tears drip down his face as he strokes his brother's hair. A sad smile spreads across his lips when he witnesses how much pain Sam is in. "It's going to be okay, Sammy. Everything's going to be okay." He promises, whispering in his ear as he gently hugs his best friend.

Sam weakly returns the embrace, wishing he could squeeze the life out of Matt to let him know how much _he_ missed him, how much _he_ thought he wasn't going to make it, how much he_ knew_ he would hurt him if he didn't keep going, didn't keep fighting.

The two brothers make small talk, neither really wanting to talk about what happened; what could have happened. In the middle of a short silence, Sam suddenly opens his mouth.

"Where's Dad? Is he alright?" He pauses and before Matt can even answer, he starts crying. "Mattie, what happened to Daddy? I couldn't save him! I couldn't, Matt. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" He sobs.

"Sammy, Sammy! He's fine. You're Dad's fine, Sammy. He's gonna be alright, buddy. Probably a little sore but he's gonna be just fine. You saved him, Sam." He gives his distraught friend a comforting smile and his hand a gentle squeeze.

"I have to see him."

Matthew nods, understandingly. "I'll ask the nurse if we can borrow a wheelchair."

Sam waits patiently in bed, glancing around, he never realized how poor this hospital's quality is compared to the many high-rise hospitals he has been too. _ 'I guess this hospital isn't exactly meant for comfort. More like the 'we'll try to keep you alive' mentality instead of 'let's make you as comfortable and happy as possible'_. Here, Sam is just another body taking up bed. He is treated a little bit better than the other soldiers only because his father's position, not that he hasn't had a few doctors rough him up pretty badly before fixing him up due to a few incidents.

Matt returns and helps his best friend into the chair. Sam grimaces when his brother accidently brushes against his back when helping him sit. He is quickly learning to _not_ use his abdominal muscles because of the mesh in his abdomen that his body is getting used to. Matt lays a warm blanket across his lap and carefully wheels his brother to his father's room.

General Braddock lays motionless in the bed. His floppy blonde hair droops over his forehead, his crystal blue eyes closed to the world. Jason has not woken since he had lost consciousness in the desert. Matt parks Sam next to his father's bedside and takes a seat in a chair a few feet away from his brother. Sam glances rather helplessly at his dad.

'_I'm going to get in so much trouble. I'll be lucky if I receive a dishonorable discharge; letting my dad get shot like that. How could I have been so stupid to not insist he return here? I hope Daddy doesn't beat me for this. It would be right of him if he did though. I practically let him be killed.'_ Sam thinks guilt dripping in his self-incriminating thoughts.

Matt sees the upset-pensive look pass across his friends face and he gently squeezes Sam's leg.

"Your dad's gonna be okay, Sammy." He nods encouragingly, a small smile warming his face. "Hey, did the nurses give you your medicine this morning?"

Silence.

"I'll have to ask them if they did or not." Matt murmurs quietly to himself.

"Daddy." Sam whispers hopefully as his father's eyes begin to open.

Jason emits a few grunts as he blinks several times to put the world in focus. "Sam." He states hoarsely.

His son stares blankly at him as he begins coughing, grimacing from the shooting pains in his chest. Sam's face remains unchanged so Matt hops up to fetch a glass of water for Jason. The General nods his thanks as the cool water soothes his throat made irritated by the oxygen pumped into his body all night.

"Oh, Sammy I love you. I love you so much, Pooh Bear." Jason whispers, weakly grabbing his son's hand.

"I love you too, Daddy." He whimpers in a child-like voice, some of his words slurring together.

The General turns to Matt and asks a few questions about Sam's condition, if he had taken his medicine, was he alright, and so on. He struggles to sit up so he can have a more direct view of his young son. After a few moments of watching his twenty-one year old, he decides that Sam has not had his medicine this morning and sends Matt out to fetch a nurse. Once the nurse injects the medication into his arm, Sam perks right up, acting like a typical mature young adult and his cognitive ability steadily returning. Jason squeezes his son's forearm, smiling as he sees his boy's return to the world.

"Are you in pain, Daddy?" Sam asks quietly, his eyes searching his father's face.

Jason gives a small lopsided smile and shakes his head 'no' as he answers, "No, nothing I can't manage, Pooh Bear."

It was that moment when he took his first real look at his son's body. A hospital gown donned Sam's body, a warm blanket was placed across his lap as he sat in the seat next to his bed…wait! _'There were only two chairs in this room.'_ The General thinks. _'If Matt's in one and there's an empty one over there…what's Sammy in?'_ His breath catches in his throat as he looks down and finds large silver wheels on his son's "chair."

"Oh God. Oh God no, Sammy! No! Baby what happened?! Why are you in a wheel chair?" He whispers horrified.

Sam lowers his gaze, not wanting to see the pain in his father's eyes. "I was shot…in the back, while I was helping you walk." He mumbles.

Tears burn at the backs of Jason's eyes as he grabs his son's hand, holding it to his chest even though he knows how much Sam dislikes being touched.

"Oh Sammy, oh Sammy, my brave little Sammy." He continues to repeat, tears rolling freely down his cheeks as he nuzzles Sam's hand. "I'm so sorry, Pooh Bear. I never wanted you to get hurt. I never wanted to hurt you! I should have listened to you Sammy, I should have come back and then you would have been safe!" He sobs.

He begins to compose himself a few minutes later, sucking for air and his chest on fire, he did not have much of a choice. Jason looks Sam straight in the eyes, another item on the list of the many things the young adult did not like to have done to him.

"Sammy? Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Sam once again drops his eyes and does not speak. Jason shifts his gaze to Matt, his question still hanging in the air waiting to be answered.

"He has a hernia." Matthew states softly.

Jason sighs heavily, knowing exactly how his son obtained such an injury.

"But this time they fixed it. I guess it was 'cause they were already in him, might as well hit two birds with one stone."

The General gives his second 'son' a questioning look saying, _'Will my baby be okay?'_ with his eyes. Matt gives a gentle nod.

"You're going to be okay, Pooh Bear. You're going to be just fine." Jason soothes.

The trio sits in a peaceful silence for a few moments before Matt stands and stretches from the stiff confines of the chair.

"Well, I guess I'd better take you back to your room for some much-needed rest, Sammy. The same for you, Sir." He gives a tight nod to The General and makes sure his best friend is properly in the chair. Before his son and his son's best friend leaves for all of their rest, Jason leans forward.

"Give Daddy a kiss Sammy?" He asks hopefully.

Sam's drained shell leans forward a bit to plant a soft kiss on his father's cheek as Jason does the same to his son.

"I love you, Pooh Bear." He calls weakly as he and Matt leave the room giving a wave goodbye.

Braddock senior lays his head back on his pillow thoroughly exhausted. He is thrilled that Sam will be alright and that Matthew is well enough to help him but he's beyond guilty for putting his baby through hell like this. He knows that Matt will be settling Sammy back into bed about now, probably tucking the blankets around him and singing him a lullaby until he falls asleep. Jason finds himself drifting off as a question he asks himself every night pounds against his skull: How on God's green earth did his son get like this? He knew the answer the second he contemplated the question. He knew every gruesome little detail of his son's tragic child- and teenage-hood that made him who he is today. What made him feel so much worse, so guilty, was that he had waited too long. He had waited too long – he hadn't recognized what was happening to his son and did not get help for him soon enough. The damage was done; Sam had been permanently altered in every aspect of his being beyond repair. Not that Jason loved his son any less because of it, in fact, he loved him so much more now that he was actually able to spend time with his son and bond with him and yet it hurt so badly to look back on his Pooh Bear's slowly deteriorating mental and physical condition even though he loved him too much to see the damage. Jason's thoughts shift to the fateful days that began this journey.

_**-*- **__Friday: February 19__th__ {3 Days After Sam's 16__th__ Birthday}__**-*-**_

_General Jason Braddock walks through the front door of his estate placing his black suitcase on the foyer floor. His only son comes bounding forward to offer a loving embrace and he tugs Sammy into his chest breathing in the scent of tropical mango shampoo in his son's thick blonde hair. Sam, with a huge, goofy lopsided grin, begins rummaging through his father's suitcase excitedly searching for something. Jason glances up questioningly at his wife._

"_What is he doing?" He asks, but his counterpart is a loss of words._

"_C'mon Dad, where'd you put them? You know I'm gonna find 'em." Sam states, his excitement barely contained. _

_Jason allows this to continue for a little while longer as he removes his jacket and pulls his shoes off of his tired feet before turning to his son. _

"_Samuel, enough with this nonsense! What are you doing?!" He nearly shouts, his nerves frayed from the past two months overseas and he expected to be treated better than this by his family. _

_Sam's head pops up giving his father a confused look as he hears the anger in The General's voice. _

"_My keys, Dad." He continues when his father seems perplexed. "To the car you bought me for my sixteenth birthday…" He states hoping to jog his memory. "So, where'd you put them?" Sam asks, trying to sound enthusiastic but his heart is beginning to sink into his stomach and a lump is quickly forming in his throat. _

_Jason's face pales as he remembers the promise he had made to his son so long ago but he quickly hides his growing panic. _

"_Samuel, don't be ridiculous. You're not getting a car." He states coldly._

_His sixteen year old's face drops, tears threatening to burst forth. _

"_What?" A steely knife stabs through Jason's sore heart as he watches his son's raw pain and disappoint. "But – but you've promised to buy me a car for my sixteenth birthday ever since I was two." He whimpers. _

_Jason manages to quickly steel himself against his son's anguished face and tries to find words, an explanation for why he failed, again._

"_You bastard! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Sam screams angrily as tears roll freely down his cheeks. "How could you do that to me?! Haven't you done enough already?!"_

_The General is shocked at his son's outburst of hurt and wants to cry himself for another round of endless pain he has caused his boy. His wife decides she is going let Sam have it, not that she doesn't do that anyway whenever Jason is gone. _

"_You will not speak to your father in that way!" She yells as Sam continues to scream expletives._

"_You've taken every damn thing away from me! Why can't you ever just keep your freaking promises?! I hate you! I HATE YOU!" _

_Jason stands in a silent trance wondering how one person could screw a child up so badly when Sam rushes towards him, fists swinging. The General easily catches his son's hits but not before Sam lands a few good ones. This only spikes Jason's fury as he grabs his son's neck in the crook of his elbow and viciously throws him down to the ground, hearing the crunch of bone as Sam screams. _

"_Why are you doing this to me, Dad?! Why do you hate me so much? Why didn't you make Mom get an abortion as soon you knew she was pregnant? You could've prevented all of this! I didn't choose to be born! It's not my fault, Daddy! If I could have chosen not to be born, I would have! I'm sorry! I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you hate me so much! Please stop hurting me! Everyone just please stop hurting me! I'm sorry! I'm sorry." Sam whimpers, his tears spilling onto the foyer floor as Jason continues to beat the crap out of him. _

_The General can see his son is gasping for air as he begins to shake, his body twitching. _

"_Samuel. Stop that. Stop Sam." He orders, worry building rapidly inside as the twitching turns into jerks and then full-on convulsions as his teenage son's eyes roll backwards in his head. _

_Sam's breath catches in his throat and he's left unconscious, gasping for air as the seizure quickly winds down to involuntary muscle twitching on the foyer floor. Jason crouches down next to his son, feeling for his pulse and stroking his sweaty blonde hair. He gently scoops Samuel up into his arms, carrying him to his bedroom and lays him in the twin sized bed, tugging the covers over his son. He plants a soft kiss on Sam's forehead before leaving him to sleep. The General's hands are shaking as he pulls his son's door closed. He takes a deep breath to settle his nerves. _

'_How the hell did that happen? Why did I get so mad at him? I was the one that forgot his birthday and his car. How could he have had a seizure?' Jason wonders. 'Sam has never had a seizure before! And his leg…I should probably check on that later, it didn't sound like it broke. Maybe it's just fractured.' He prays. 'I'll take him to see Duke tomorrow if it looks bad.' He promises before heading off to bed himself._

"_This night is all backwards." The General murmurs as he crawls into bed. "They should've been happy to see me, Sam should've found his keys, I should have bought him a car. Hell, I didn't even tell the kid 'Happy Birthday.' When did he get so old? Last time I checked he was eight and now he's __**sixteen**__? Whew, time sure does go by fast when you're not there watching them grow up." He mumbles, clutching a pillow to his chest to stifle the tears of worry for his son as he drifts asleep. _

_The next morning, Jason wakes at 0312: earlier than usual but sleeping simply was not an option. He tiptoed to Sam's room and easing his son's door open, he finds him sleeping peacefully as anyone at 3 am should be. He exits quietly, not wanting to wake him. _

'_Perhaps I can buy him a car now and give it to him saying that last night I was just playing a joke on him.' He thinks. 'No, he won't buy that. I'm not the type of person that kids around and he knows that; it's probably a little too early to go to a dealership anyway. I doubt there open. But maybe, I could give him one of my cars as a starter until he picks out whatever car he wants when he's eighteen.' Jason plays with this idea until he hears a loud thud and something fragile breaking upstairs. _

_In sheer panic, he runs to Sam's room flicking on the overhead light. Much to his horror, he finds his only son convulsing on the floor and his nightstand lamp on the ground in shattered pieces around him. _

"_Sammy! Samuel!" He shouts, willing himself to move and help his son. _

_His body finally listens to its command and hurries over to the teenaged boy, gently dragging him out of the broken glass and porcelain to the middle of his wooden floor as his seizure shows no signs of slowing down. Jason's stomach flips and his heart sinks to his toes while he watches the cruel, short-circuited electric pulses surging through his son's body creating such violent convulsions of jerks and twitches all while rendering him unconscious. _

_Jason knew how seizures worked, one of his buddies in Iraq had had them: not like this though. His friend had absent seizures meaning he zoned out for a little while and 'came to' confused most of the time. Most of the guys thought he was stupid since he didn't always know what they were doing. He got fed up one day and blew his top, told them he had epilepsy and to stop messing with him because he couldn't control it (and at that time, medicine wasn't quite as advanced so he wasn't on any) and to help him out instead of tearing him apart because of it. Jason remembered that he had been more upset than angry. His unit understood after that and tried to keep him filled in and make sure he was with them mentally. Sadly, the day he had told their unit about his condition was the day he lost his life because of it. Some cocky-ass son of bitch hadn't believed him and thought he was making the whole thing up because he didn't want to admit that he was just stupid. They were out in a group patrol and Jason's friend was placed in the back as they were walking through a more dangerous area. His friend had a seizure, froze and was shot in the head by insurgents. It put everyone in their places, they all knew how serious seizures could be now and they were __**not**__ to be taken lightly. It was just a shame that such a good man had to lose his life to prove it. _

_The General's heart races as relives those terrible days. If he had been in that group, he would have never let them put his buddy in the back without any protection in case something happened. His friend might have still had his life at the end of the day if he had been there. Jason shakes his head in attempts to clear his thoughts and focus on his boy. Sam was still jerking, his muscles rigid, his breaths in short gasps but it seemed it might be coming to a draw. Suddenly, he ceases to move. Everything goes still and limp. His breathing returns to normal and his eyelids slid shut over his rolled back eyes. Jason strokes Sam's damp hair and checks for any additional injuries. His leg is not broken, thankfully, but he needs to have it set and cast nonetheless. Finding only small scrapes and cuts from the glass shards, he kisses Sam's cheeks and instructs his butler to call Duke immediately. Jason does not know if he should move his son or not, so he lets him "sleep" on the floor, sliding a pillow under his head and tucking a blanket around his shivering body; he murmurs soothing words to his unconscious son until Duke arrives with his First Aid Kit and medical bag, quickly finding Jason and his son in the son's bedroom. _

_Duke works his magic, checking his pulse, oxygen, blood-pressure levels as well as his eyes. _

"_So you think he fell out of bed, knocking the lamp over?" Duke asks and Jason nods. "Well, no sign of concussion. His levels are good but he's still not responsive. How long has he been out?"_

"_I don't know. I came running when I heard the thud but he was already unconscious. I don't know how long he had the seizure before he fell out of bed." Jason admits. _

_Duke nods, once again tapping the teen's cheeks, hoping for a response but getting none. "And this is the second time he's had what you call a seizure?"_

"_Yes. He had one last night as well but it stopped so much quicker. It couldn't have been more than five minutes." _

"_Alright and can you describe what his body is doing when he's having a 'seizure'?" He asks putting quotation marks in the air as he says the word 'seizure.' _

"_Duke! C'mon man! I know what a seizure looks like. He was jerking and twitching on the floor unconscious and gasping in these short little gasping breaths. He was having a seizure, Duke."_

"_Are you sure he was unconscious, Jason?"_

"_Yes I'm sure! His eyes were rolled back in his head!"_

"_Okay, okay buddy. It does sound like Sam was having a seizure and therefore we need to get him to a hospital now, whether it's the base or not. NOW, Jason. If you're describing everything correctly then your son's has been having a very serious, life-threatening type of seizure and we need to make sure he's stable as well as get him on some meds. Okay?"_

_The General nods and helps Duke place his son on a stretcher in case there was any spinal cord or vertebra damage when he fell before they race off, Duke in his military van and Jason following closely behind in his Cadillac Escalade. Although he never wanted to leave Sam alone, he trusted Duke with his own life and knew his friend would take care of his son until they reached the base hospital. _

_Two and a half hours later, Jason sits in a surprisingly comfortable office chair next to his silent son's hospital bed. The base is rather quiet. Not much activity goes on during Saturday morning in the hospital. There are a few other patients in other wings but Sam's hall is empty. His room has been kept as comforting, bedroom-like and updated as possible since Sam was five years old with rare complications after his tetanus shot. Jason had been twenty-four years old at the time struggling with a group of angry mobsters seemingly hired to kill him by his own abusive father all while his young son had been ill for months with continuous vomiting, high fever, general flu-like symptoms and an allergic reaction – all rare and dangerous side effects of a tetanus immunization. Jason had been a nervous wreck the entire time, the only reason he didn't lose it completely was solely because of Duke. During that time, Jason became the General, escaping his cruel father for the time being and reserving that particular room in the base hospital for his son. It was a spacious room and Jason had allowed his young son to pick out paint colours, posters, furniture and other things to make the room feel more bedroom-like. He had made sure Sam's room was kept updated even though he spent less time in the hospital. _

_Posters of cars and Sam's favourite bands hang on the walls. Jason had painted three of them a soft, warm grey and the forth wall across from his son's bed a bright teal blue to help keep his son's spirits up. General Braddock runs his hands over his face wondering when his little boy was going to wake. Duke had given him a sedative when they arrived so he wouldn't wake during the MRI he wanted to take of Sam's back but now Jason just wants his baby to wake up. _

_**Four Days Later:**_

_Sam's dull blue eyes slowly flutter open only to roll backwards in his head as his brain sends his body into another fit of convulsions. This time, the seizure ends quickly but not before Jason bursts into a heart-wrenching tears. Duke glances sympathetically at his friend in the corner as grieving tears stream down his face, the silent choked sobs filling the charged air. The doctor strokes his patient's hair, murmuring gentle words to Sam. CC, one of Jason and Duke's buddies they had met while in Iraq together, pops his head in the door. Before he can speak, Duke knows who is at the door. _

"_CC, print out these graphs for me and bring 'em back here. Thanks buddy." Duke orders. _

"_Sure thing, Duke. Hey, Jase. How's your kid?" CC asks, genuinely concerned for Jason's mental state. _

_Jason glances up at his friend. Tear-stained cheeks and desperate eyes tell CC all he needs to know. He bites his lip. _

"_I'm sorry, man. Look, Duke's the best. We all can testify to that. He'll make sure Sammy's alright, Jase. I know he will." He gives a warm smile and hugs his troubled friend._

_Jason weakly hugs CC back before he trots off to get a print of the readings from the electrodes Duke has attached to Sam's head to read what is happening in his brain during one of his seizures. Surprisingly, Sam comes back around quickly. He stares at his father's distraught face. _

"_Daddy? Why are you upset? What did I do this time?" He asks defeated. _

_Jason roughly wipes the tears from his eyes and gently hugs his son, squeezing him tightly. _

"_I love you. I love you so much, Sammy. Please forgive me for hurting you. All I ever do is hurt you and I don't mean to! I love you more than anything in the world! But, I screw up sometimes, Sammy. Okay, fine, a lot. And I'm never man-enough to admit it. You have way more guts that I do, sweetheart. I mean that, too. You're so brave, Sam; so courageous and I can't even begin to tell you how much I love you, or how sorry I am for everything I've done." His father states shakily, tears rolling down both their faces. _

"_I love you, too, Daddy!" Sam cries into Jason's chest. _

_Duke smiles and steps closer to the door to give the father and son some privacy. CC returns quietly to give his friend the readings, a sad 'You're not going to like this' look on his face. The pair eventually stop embracing and Duke takes this time to interrupt. _

_He clears his throat and attracts both young men's attention. "I have the results from the electrodes I attached to your head, Sam."_

"_The whaty-whats?" Sam asks, a bewildered look plastered on his face as he reaches up to touch his head, noticing about fifteen different wires stuck to him. "Oh, hey, that's kinda cool! I must be super smart, Dad. You guys want to try to measure my true intelligence even though it cannot be captured in all its greatness." The sixteen year old cracks a lopsided grin trying to make light of the situation, having absolutely no idea why he's in his hospital room. _

_Jason laughs at his son's attempted joke while Duke chuckles at the eerie resemblance between his old friend and his son: their mannerism, smile and expressions are all too familiar. The tension dissipates as the men laugh despite the serious situation at hand._

"_Well, we haven't quite discovered that just yet, Sam…but we have discovered something very important." Duke's tone turns serious. "We – meaning a team of doctors and myself – have diagnosed you with a seizure disorder most commonly referred to as epilepsy."_

_The teenager glances confusedly at his father. "Seizures? I have seizures?" He asks in disbelief. _

_Jason can only hang his head and nod, unable to bear witnessing his son's pain. _

"_Sam, you have been having Grand Mal or tonic clonic seizures repeatedly for the past five days." Duke continues, trying his best to ease Sam in. "This is the most dangerous type of seizures but they can often be halted when medicine is taken." He pauses for a few moments to allow the teen to digest the shocking information he had told Jason as soon as Sam had been settled into his room four days ago. _

"_So, what do they do? How come I didn't know I was having them?"_

"_Tonic clonic seizures include both the tonic and clonic types of seizures. A patient, such as yourself, that has tonic clonic seizures will experience loss of conscious, convulsions and muscle rigidity. After this, a patient will go into postictal, a deep sleep that can last for several hours hence why you did not know you were having them. When you awoke Sam, you simply thought you had fallen asleep and were waking up from an unexpected nap." Duke explains. _

_Despite the reassuring news that he was not at fault for not recognizing his disorder, the worried gaze on Sam's face does not change. _

"_There is plenty of medication that you can try until we find the right one that prevents your seizures from occurring. Don't worry; your life is not ruined. It will just be a little different from here on out, an adjustment if you will but if I know a Braddock at all, you'll be just fine."_

_The teen nods his head slightly and swallows hard to push down the golf-ball-sized lump in his throat. Duke nods tightly at Jason, telling him to talk to his son and leaves the two alone. Once the doctor exits, Sam breathes out heavily, stinging tears threatening to unleash once more. His father walks over and sits on the edge of his bed, giving his good leg a little squeeze. The General brushes the hair from Sam's eyes and plants a kiss on his forehead._

"_We're going to get through this, Sammy. I love you, Pooh Bear." He whispers. _

_The remainder of the day and for the next three, Sam is different and Jason notices. He does not talk or hold any type of conversation. He quietly takes the medicine Duke gives him and follows the instructions his father gives him, helping him walk around the wing and taking his shower with his fractured left leg._

_On the evening of the second day as CC finishes helping Sam rewrap his leg after his shower, Jason asks worriedly, "Sammy? What's wrong, sweetie?" _

_His teenage son gazes up at him, blinking his bleary eyes heavily. Sam had another seizure that morning so Duke changed his medication but this particular type has been making him sleepy all day. _

"_I'm just tired, Daddy. Really, really tired." He answers, gingerly crawling into bed. _

_Jason quickly helps his son, pulling the covers up for Sam to use when necessary. _

"_I know you are, buddy but is anything else wrong? You just seem so – upset."_

_Sam thinks for a moment before answering. "I just want everything to go back to the way it was. I want to go back to school and I really wish I could drive, but I honestly just want to go home, Daddy."_

_His father strokes his hair and nuzzles his nose, making him giggle. "I know you do sweetheart. I want everything normal again too, but this is the new normal and we're going to adjust it's just going to take a little time. I promise. Everything's going to be just fine, Pooh Bear." _

_A nurse brings Sam his medicine again before he goes to sleep and Duke pops his head in before he heads to his compound. Jason hops up to talk to his friend at the door, not wanting to wake his son who is already falling asleep. _

"_Hey, I think I'm going to take Sammy home tomorrow. Just wanted to know what you thought about that and what we might need to do medically."_

"_Oh, um, okay." Duke stammers. Sam definitely should not be going home yet __**especially**__ without a doctor on hand for any emergencies. "Well, I wouldn't advise that you take him home until we've found a medicine prevents his seizures for at least a full week. You would also need someone of a medical profession if anything went wrong and he suddenly started having a seizure again."_

"_I can hire a concierge doctor – or you could be my concierge. You already know Sam, his disorder and he's comfortable with you as well. I'll talk to your commander, if you want to be our doctor that is." _

_Duke nods slowly. "Yep, I can do that." _

_Jason smiles widely, sporting the same lopsided grin he passed on to his son. He walks back into his son's room, tucking the bright teal comforter around Sam's sleeping form before lowering himself onto the couch arranged against the adjacent wall closet to his son's bed and tugs the throw over himself. _

_**Noon: The Next Day**_

_Jason and Duke have a firm hold on either side of a pale, out-of-breath Sam as they help him up the spiral staircase to his bedroom. He stumbles and then collapses on the stairs, his chest heaving for air as he closes his eyes. _

"_Sam?" Duke states loudly, lowering his patient onto the wooden steps. _

"_Sammy?! Pooh Bear!" Jason shouts as he watches his son's eyes close. He prays with all his heart that his teenager is not having a seizure, knowing how many injuries he could sustain from convulsions on wooden stairs. _

"_Sam, talk to me. C'mon open your eyes, buddy. I know you're in there. You gotta open your eyes. Now, Sam." Duke orders. His young patient sighs heavily and slowly peels his eyes open, blinking heavily. "Good, good, Sam. How do you feel? What does everything feel like?"_

"_I'm tired." He moans. _

_Duke quickly checks the sixteen year old over before motioning for the teen's father to help him carry the boy the rest of the way. They lay him down on his bed and leave him alone to rest. Sam sleeps peacefully the rest of the day and much into the next. Duke assures Jason that this is normal and Sam is not in any serious medical danger. _

_Early the next morning as the two older men are sipping coffee, Duke brings up an interesting topic. _

"_So where's the witch? And Natalie?" He asks. _

_Jason can only sigh and place his head in his hands. "Gone. I found out what she'd been doing to Sam when I was gone." _

_He shakes his head unable to delve into the painful and horrifying details his wife had blatantly told him when he inquired. Sam's statement during their 'disagreement' about "everyone just please stop hurting me" did not settle right with Jason. Everyone? He had been gone for two months and before that, four. He had not laid a rough hand on his son since two years prior. _

"_I just can't believe that she would do those things to him! No wonder he's so scared all the time! She's been hurting him since he was in kindergarten! How could she?! How could have found any fault in Sammy at that age? He was perfect! He is perfect." He corrects himself. "I suppose she turned Natalie against us as well because she wanted to go with her."_

"_Is it official?"_

"_Is what official?" Jason asks confused._

"_The divorce?" _

"_Oh, oh God no. Do you have any idea how much unwanted press and publicity we would get from that? Imagine the headlines: General Braddock's Shocking Divorce; Richest Bachelor in Canada Now Available; A Family Divided; Does Turmoil in the Family Mean Turmoil for the Country?. It'd be ridiculous. That is last thing Sam needs as well. He needs to get better and if he ever wants to join the Army, he __**will**__ have that opportunity. No one is going to know about his epilepsy unless __**I**__ go public with it." He states firmly._

_Duke nods curtly, understanding the protective-fatherly stance his friend is taking for his son's sake. _

"_Well, I'm sorry you found out what Jaqueline was doing but I'm glad you did so now you truly can protect Sam, but Jase? Are you going to stay home and take care of him until he's better or are you going to continue to travel the world on the mere whim of a meeting and leave Sam's safety in the hands of someone that could inflict the same, or more harm than Jaqueline?" Duke asks. _

"_I'm staying here. I've already decided that. I am only going to attend the most necessary meetings, try to have the majority here in Canada and if I absolutely must leave the country, Sam is coming with me."_

"_Good for you, Jason. I'm proud of you for this. I know it's not easy risking your job but you're doing the right thing, buddy."_

"_Thanks. I just hope Sam doesn't hold too big of a grudge against me for allowing that awful woman to inflict such harm on him. I hope he believes that I honestly had no idea. I love him so much, I'd really hate for us to butt heads the whole time."_

_The conversation continues like so for the next few hours during breakfast. Jason and his friend take turns checking on Sam but Duke insists that he will recover faster if he is left undisturbed to rest. Sam wakes a little after his father and doctor eat dinner. Jason feeds him small portions of food and gives him plenty to drink, although he has been on an IV the entire time. As the following days pass, Jason scarcely leaves his son's room: helping Sam sit up, eat, drink, relieve himself and the most taxing task, taking a shower. The sixteen year old sleeps for the majority of the time but he talks a bit more than he did at the hospital. His best friend, Matt, is briefed on Sam's situation by his father who has been close friends with Jason since high school and he visits often, always managing to lift Sam's spirits by the time he has to leave._

_Only four souls know of Samuel's disorder: Jason, Duke, Matt and Corey (Matthew's father) and that is exactly how it will stay._

"_Dad? When can I go back to school?" Sam asks for the tenth time that week. _

_His father cannot suppress his sigh. "Samuel, I told you, we are going to have to talk about it."_

"_Yeah but when? You've been saying that since I woke up at the base! That was two weeks ago, Dad! I want to go back to school! I'm only going to fall further behind the longer you keep me home. I mean, sure, it's great not having to wake up so early and I get to spend a lot of with you but I need to get good grades to be able to get into a good college. I'm a junior, Dad. I can't afford to blow grades off now!" Sam reminds him. "Why can't we talk about it now?"_

"_Sam, I – I don't want you going back to school." Jason states softly. _

"_What?!"_

"_I don't think it's a good idea for you to go back to school, in that building."_

"_Why not?!"_

"_Because Sam, we have not found a medication that works yet. What if you had a seizure going down the stairs to your next class? You would fall! You could break something! You could be killed! But worse, you could be paralyzed." He whispers horrified at the very thought._

"_Why would that be worse than death?"_

"_You would have to live, live until you're seventy-five or eighty always having someone take care of you, unable to be independent, unable to work, not able to move or do anything for yourself! You would be miserable, Sammy. And it would break my heart in a million pieces if you were ever hurt because I decided to go against my gut feeling and let you do what you pleased." He pauses. "Sam, please don't misunderstand me. I want you to be happy. I want that more than anything in the world! But Pooh Bear, I don't think I can consciously allow you to return to school knowing the possible that you could very likely be injured and it would be none other than my own fault. I don't want you to be hurt. I want you to be safe, sweetie, and I want for you to be happy."_

"_What would you do? About school, I mean. I can't just skip the next three and half months." _

"_I know. I plan to homeschool you, just until this is all under control."_

"_My first prom is in three months. I want to go to prom, Daddy." Sam squeaks, tears rolling down his cheeks. _

_Jason sighs, tears welling in his eyes as well as he embraces his son tightly. "You can still go, Sammy. You just need to find a date. Ask some of your friends to help. I'm sure Matt, Joseph and Ben would be more than happy to find a date for you. Who wouldn't want to go to junior prom with the handsomest boy in the junior class?" He smiles genuinely, kissing his son's forehead and wiping away the tears. _

_The teenager finds the strength to smile. The past two weeks have been hard on him; his diagnosis, the news that he could not drive until he has not had a seizure in three years due to working medication and now that he will have to leave all of his few friends to be homeschooled. He has been very brave throughout the entire process, trusting his father's judgement to protect him and do what is best now._

"_Okay, Dad. Maybe homeschooling won't be so bad. It's only for little while anyway." He says aloud trying to be positive, however on the inside, he is feeling quite the opposite. "Am I going to have a say in who my instructor is or are you just going to conduct the interviews by yourself?"_

_The General is slightly taken aback. "Sam, I'm going to be your instructor. Unless, you'd rather have someone else?" His heart sinks. He knew mending the fences between he and his son was not going to be easy but he thought he had built up a significant amount of trust throughout the past two weeks. _

"_Oh! No, you'd be great! I – I just thought that you were going to get back to being the General and uh, the meetings and traveling and all that again. I thought you had just taken some time off. I didn't know that you were going to stick around." Sam states, just as surprised as his father had been but his words drive cold metal stakes through Jason's heart. _

'_Too busy with your job, the requirements, traveling without me, meetings all the time, never home, never want to be with me, gone for months, when will you come home, will you even be alive, are you going to desert me again, too busy to take care of me, too busy to care, your job is more important than me, didn't think you'd stay, you never stay.' Is all Jason heard in his son's hurtful words. _

"_Dad, you know you don't have to do this. I'll make out just fine with any instructor that you see fit. You don't need to hold back on your career now just because of me." (Because I know you never do and I'd rather if you'd leave now before I start depending on you)_

"_Sam, I want to do this with you. I want to be your father. I want to be your friend and I want to be here, with you. Can you give me another chance, Sammy?" Jason pleads._

"_Sure, Dad. I want to do this with you too."_

_The duos hug and kiss goodnight, a new start for the both. Over the next few weeks, Sam excels in the rigorous homeschooling program his father had selected. They work through the material each day, Sam receives high grades and the pair has quite a good deal of playtime together pulling childish pranks and pillow fights. Prom is approaching quickly, only two weeks away and Sam's friends at school are working fervently to find a date for him. After finding his son in postictal in bed one morning, Jason decides that Sam should sleep with him until they find the right medication that will suppress his frequent seizures. The General has grown stricter on some of the 'rules' regarding Sam's safety such as, not being alone in the bathroom during a shower, not walking up the stairs by himself, he's not allowed to go outside unless a guard, one of the few remaining house-staff or Jason himself is with him. Sam does not mind spending an intimate amount of time with his father however. He enjoys the attention and love he receives. _

_Three days before prom the telephone rings. Sam answers excitedly, knowing his friends would be calling about this time about his date. _

"_Hello?" Sam answers excitedly._

"_Hey Sam," comes Ben's sad voice. "Look man, Joe and I have asked every girl in senior high and either they have a date already, aren't planning on going or don't know who you are. We tried to sell your personality as best we could but we just couldn't find anyone. I'm really sorry buddy."_

_Sam's face drops as he lets out the breath he had been holding for the past week. "Oh, okay man. Well, thanks for trying Ben. I guess it just wasn't supposed to happen. Tell Joe thanks too. I hope you guys have a blast." Tears threaten to let loose any moment. _

"_I'm really sorry, Sam. I really wish you could - "_

"_Naw man, it's fine, don't worry about it. You did what could. You guys just – have a great time and tell me everything that happened; what it was like." His heart feels like it's being torn to shreds. "I gotta go. I'll talk to you later." He quickly places the phone back into the cradle. _

"_Was that your friends, Sam?" Jason asks, hearing his son speaking to someone and not calling him to answer it. _

"_Yeah."_

"_What'd they say? They find a cute date for you?" He had not heard any pieces of his conversation or he would have never asked such a hurtful question._

_The tears finally leak out of the corners of Sam's eyes as he shakes his head 'no'. "They couldn't find anyone that was available or wanted to go with me." He says shakily._

_Jason's face drops as he quickly pulls his teenage son into an embrace, Sammy's tears wetting his father's shirt as he cries into his chest and shoulder. _

"_Oh I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so, so sorry." He murmurs._

_After a few moments, Jason has an idea. _

"_Hey, hey." He states gently, lifting his son's chin with two of his fingers. "How 'bout if we went to a nice fancy restaurant that night? Just you and me. Would you like that, Sammy?" _

_The teen displays a watery smile as he nods. "Yeah, I'd like that." He hugs his father again. _

_**The Night of Prom:**_

_Sam is adjusting the position of his red-toned clip-on tie. He and his father are due to leave in twenty minutes for their reserved seats at a classic upscale restaurant. His white dress shirt, dark grey sports jacket and stylish narrow red vans add to Sam's quirky classic impression._

"_Almost ready, Sammy?" Jason calls to his son upstairs. _

"_Yep!" He bounds down the hall and squeezes his father around the waist. _

_His big blue eyes gaze inquisitively into his father's. Jason smiles and gives his teenager a bear hug, tickling the sides of his stomach on purpose. His son giggles until he's gasping for air in between his hysteric laughs. The father and son are laughing uncontrollably when the phone rings. _

"_Hello?" He answers, barely able to suppress another bout of laughter. "Yes sir." His tone suddenly changes. Sam can tell it's someone from work. "Yes sir, I understand." He moves into another room. _

'_Must be something classified.' Sam thinks as he flops down onto a chair in the middle of the hallway. _

_His father returns a few moments later, an apologetic face showing clearly. _

"_Everything okay?" _

"_Yeah, yeah…hey uh, the president just called for an emergency meeting with Britain's prime minister on the situation with Iran. They're both in town and I have to be at the base in ten minutes. I'm so sorry, Pooh Bear. We can reschedule…for next week, maybe. I'm so sorry, Sammy."_

_His face drops, tears instantly burning the backs of his eyes. "Oh. Okay. Yeah, uh next week's fine." He quickly turns around to head back down the hall to change into his pajamas. _

"_Sammy! I don't want you leave you here alone like this."_

"_No, no, go Dad, just go. You need to go. Get dressed, c'mon you're going to be late." Sam turns his father around, pointing him towards his large room._

"_Samuel. I need to make sure that you're going to be okay." Jason insists. _

_His son appears to be taken aback. "Dad, I'll be fine. Manwell will be here for a while longer. I'll just stay in my room and watch movies in bed. I'll be okay. Yes, I promise I won't go down the stairs, I'll call you if I have a seizure and I won't stay up too late." _

"_Baby I'm sorry. I love you. I promise, I will make this up to you."_

"_It's fine, Dad. You don't have to make anything up; you're job's really important. My Daddy saves the world." He jests with an undertone of sincerity and bitterness. _

_The General cannot help but chuckle. He places a gentle kiss on the top of Sam's head. _

"_I'm sorry, son." He whispers, already half dressed in his formal army uniform. _

_At that moment, the doorbell rings. _

"_Samuel can you get that? Manwell is tending to the car." The teenager nods and hurries down the stairs. "Be careful!" Jason shouts after him. _

"_I'm alright!" His son calls back, safely reaching the bottom of the staircase and he releases his held breath._

"_Hello?" He can hear Sam answer as he is walking down the spiral staircase. _

_Matt stands on the brick steps leading up to the front door. He ceremoniously bends down on one knee, grabbing his son's hand. _

"_Samuel Braddock, will you go to prom with me this fair evening?" Matt asks, hardly able to retain his seriousness._

_Sam covers his mouth in shock as tears roll down his face and he nods 'yes'. Jason smiles broadly. One would think his son has just been proposed to from the two teenagers' positions and their reactions. Leave it to Matt to make everything work. Matt stands, half laughing/half crying as he embraces his friend. _

"_Wait! I don't have a tux." Sam states, his demeanor dropping significantly. _

"_Do not worry, young lad. For your proper suit is in my sleek carriage. I shall fetch it for you now." Matthew replies, skipping off to grab Sam's tuxedo from his car. "For you, Monsieur."_

"_If you made Ben tell me that no one would go to prom with me just because you wanted to ask, I'm going to kill you!" Sam laughs. _

"_I didn't! I swear. No, they told me last week and I was devastated. I knew how much you wanted to go. C'mon, go get dressed!" Matt urges. _

_Sam nods vigorously, trotting to the bathroom downstairs to change. _

"_Thank you, Matt." Jason states honestly, ruffling his 'second' son's hair. "You don't know how much this means to him; or me."_

_The dark-brown haired teen smiles brightly. "I think I might have an idea." He pauses and laughs. "Sorry I came so late, I left school early to run to Kingston to pick up his tux. That was the only place that had his size available. I called everywhere. The traffic was awful coming back, I'm just glad we won't actually be late…we might miss the grand march, but I don't think he'll mind too much. Were you two going to go somewhere?" He asks noticing his friend's father has his dress uniform on, all the decorations on too._

"_Uh no, we were but I just received a call for an emergency meeting at the base that I'm supposed to be at…right now." He laughs, reading his watch. "I really thank you, Matthew."_

_Sam exits the bathroom looking perplexed. "Uh, Daddy?" He asks holding his improperly knotted tie in the air._

_His father chuckles and ties his tie properly, kissing both of Sam's cheeks as they walk out to the car. _

"_Wait!" Jason calls just as they are about to climb into Matt's car. "Let me get your picture."_

_He quickly snaps a photo with the camera, both their arms around the other's neck and hugs both boys goodbye, going over the checklist of reminders as they slowly pull out of the driveway. _

"_Now you boys call me if you need anything, leave me a message. If you're going to stay at Mattie's house, let me know Sammy and if you two want to stay here, just make sure it's alright with Corey. I love you! Have fun! Be careful driving! I don't want to get a call from the hospital saying you've been in a crash. Don't either of you dare drink or I will tan your hides! No girls either! Absolutely none!" He shouts playfully but both know how serious he is. "Matthew, make sure Sam takes his medicine!" _

_Sam and Matt nod to all of the commands, laughing at most but agreeing nonetheless. They set off for their first prom. _

_**Five Hours Later:**_

"_That was so terrible it was hilarious!" Matt cackles as they unlock the front door to the Braddock estate. _

_The two continue to make jokes of the night as they ready themselves for bed: shedding the tuxedos, throwing on pajamas, brushing their teeth and for Sam, taking his medicine. Sam sighs, he wishes this medication would work. It's the only one so far that hasn't made him feel sick or sleepy but the past few days have proven it ineffective. Duke is ordering some different pills and wants him to stay on something until they arrive. Sam and his best friend climb into the queen-sized bed, curling up next to each other as sleep overtakes the two brothers. _

_**The Following Events:**_

_Sam and Matt have learned that prom is incredibly lame and not an event they wish to repeat. Duke's new medicine is not working either although he assures them that one of these medications will stop the daily seizures, they just have to find the right one. Sam's summer is mostly spent with his father, traveling or staying home together._

_The changes happened slowly: new quirks – nothing alarming, more shy in public, less talkative, an occasional anxiety attack, a new, strong, dislike to being touched by anyone other than Jason, Matt, Corey or Duke and even then, he stiffened if unexpected. Then came the more noticeable ones: slower cognitive response, taking longer to comprehend a simple question, the occasional not answering at all, the slight slur in speech, the hand-holding, the run and jumps into his father's arms, the love of being carried around, the more childish actions such as pillow-fights and calling Jason 'Daddy' instead of 'Dad', the confused look that came across his face more often, the slightly buggier eyes – more concerned seeming, more pleading – and sheer joy he displayed by simply sitting next to his father. _

_Sam is almost seventeen and Christmas had been a blast. January has been very cold so the pair have stayed inside for the most part, sitting by the fire and playing board games, occasionally going outside to play in the snow. Despite how noticeable or unnoticeable the changes to his son were, Jason didn't pay any mind to them. He loved his son too much to care that he was changing. He was simply thrilled to bond with Sam and try to atone for his past mistakes. No matter what medication Duke put Sam on, he still has seizures. The General is growing worried, very worried. They should have been able to get them under control by now, a full year has passed. A year full of late-night visits to the base, high-speed racing to the hospital in Toronto, seizures in bed, seizures in the parking lot, the grocery stores, the heaped snow piles and the worst of all – seizures in the car. Sam had received a broken arm during one of his fits while driving to hospital for a previous one. It had been right before Christmas but Sam didn't seem to notice the hard red cast on his arm during the holiday. With the coldest month now upon them, Sam enjoys spending the nights in bed curled into his warm, strong father. _

"_Daddy, I don't wanna go to the doctors." Sam whines as he sits in the front seat during the car ride to the base. Duke wants to recheck the teen for any signs of improvement or decline in his condition. _

"_I know you don't Sammy but we have to today. We finished all of your homework, right?" _

"_Yea." Sam answers, gazing out the window. _

_Jason had decided to keep his son on the homeschooling program they had begun last year since Sam's disorder was not under control yet and he seemed to enjoy it. He takes Sam's hand as he helps his son out of the car and holds it as they walk into the base, flashing his identification only for the sheer enjoyment of waving a card through the air. Sam dawdles behind, gazing intently at everything he passes. He sits down on the side of his bed as Duke enters. The doctor tries to make small talk with Sam, but he does not answer and seems uncomfortable with someone standing so close to him. _

"_Daddy." He suddenly interrupts, his ears deaf to the conversation that is being held around him. _

"_Yeah Sammy?"_

"_I wan' some fro-yo." He states, a goofy, lopsided smile painted on his perfect face. _

_Jason cannot help but to laugh at his son's new favourite word and food. Frozen yogurt. It never ceases to amaze him how 'fro-yo', as his son calls it, can make someone so happy. _

"_How 'bout we get some when we are finished here, Sammy." He chuckles. _

_Sam makes his little sighing noise with his mouth, his lips vibrating together. "N'Kay." He pauses. "Can we be finished now?" He asks hopefully, his bright eyes light up._

"_Not quite yet, Sam." Duke grins. "Jason? A word?" He asks, leading his friend out into the hallway but not before the older Braddock places a kiss on his son's forehead, telling him to stay put and be good._

"_What's up?" He asks._

"_Jason, I think you need to take Sam to a more practiced, pediatric hospital. I know there's a great one in Philadelphia that has a superb neurology team. They're also very seasoned in children with – mental disorders." Duke states choosing his words very carefully._

"_Mental disorders?" Jason asks confused._

"_Well, his epilepsy is a mental disorder of sorts but, Jase, I think something is going on too. I'm not positive so I'm not going to waste my breath, but you need to take him somewhere else. I've done everything I can for him and nothing's worked. You need to go to a pediatric hospital where there's a good chance they'll have different medication for the children they see. All I have is adult meds, they might not be working because he still has a pediatric brain. Just try, please. I can get you in in two days. That'll give you the time to drive or fly down and just chill out, let Sam become adjusted and just have some fun. Oh and I'd bring more than two pairs of clothes, you might be there a while."_

_The father soaks in the information. 'Another mental disorder? No, he couldn't.' He nods his head slowly. "Okay. I'll take him home and we'll start packing. Thanks Duke."_

"_No problem. Let me know how it goes!" He calls as his friend and his son walk down the hallway to exit the building. _

_When they reach the house again, Jason begins packing both of their clothes and other necessities into one large black suitcase. _

"_Where we goin' Daddy?" Sam asks, sitting on his father's bed as he packs. _

"_We are going to Philadelphia, Sammy. You know where that is? That's in the United States of America." _

_Sam flaps his hands together wildly. "Ohhh! Fun!" He shouts. _

_His father smiles. 'Just enjoy the time you have with Sam. It doesn't matter if he has ten thousand other problems, he's always going to be your Pooh Bear. The most important part is that you love him and he loves you too.' Jason reminds himself. _

_They leave at 0900, stopping for lunch in Buffalo and getting out every two or so hours to stretch. Jason has booked a nice hotel in Philadelphia only ten minutes away from the children's hospital. The pair go out for dinner and window shop before heading back to sleep at 2030, both exhausted from the long day's trip. The next morning at 0940, Jason wakes Sam. He helps his son get dressed and eat breakfast before driving to the hospital for their 1000 appointment. _

"_Samuel Braddock?" An attractive nurse calls. _

_Sam takes his father's hand as they follow her back to record his height, weight and blood pressure before she leads them to a brightly painted room with train pictures: a particular fascination of Sam's. _

_The doctor enters a little while later and seems very kind. He asks Jason a slew of questions and then asks him to sit in a waiting room down the hall while he and his assistant ask Sam some questions and complete fun activities. At first, Sam is horrified that his father has to leave. He bursts into tears and clings onto Jason for dear life. The doctor soon convinces him that his daddy will be outside waiting for him but that right now, they were going to play some games with him. Jason admired the way the doctor spoke to Sam in a commanding, yet kind and gentle way that would help his son understand. _

_A little under two hours later, the doctor emerges and brings him into Sam's room where his son leaps into his arms, happy to be held again. Their reunion did not last long as the nurse took a giddy Sam to the playroom to play with the toy trains so his father and the doctor could speak in private._

"_Mr. Braddock, your son is displaying very clear signs of another metal disorder that seems to be the effect of his epilepsy left untreated." He pauses to allow his patient's father to digest the information. "I have diagnosed your son with ASD: Autism Spectrum Disorder."_

_Jason blinks and shakes his head trying to decipher if he had heard the doctor right or not. "You mean that Sam is autistic?" He asks, despair is etched in the worry lines of his face. _

_The doctor nods. "I'm afraid so. I've hardly even heard of an epileptic child developing autism but he is in the rare minority. As I'm sure you know, if a child has too many seizures, they can develop some mental retardation. However, in some rare cases, untreated epilepsy can damage a different part of the brain that causes autism instead of retardation. Personally, I have only seen this once in all of my twenty-three years as working as a pediatric neurologist but it can happen. Now, Sam is rather high functioning on the spectrum but not high enough for me to classify him with Asperger's."_

_The rest of the doctor's speech about autism, how to work with the child, adjust to certain things and the medications he can put Sam on for his ASD and epilepsy are scarcely heard by Jason. He is in a fog. The news of his son's diagnosis is just too overwhelming, too startling, too unbelievable. _

_He is given a large folder of information on Grand Mal seizures and ASD to take home as well as the doctor's number in case he has any further questions. He nearly cries as Sam jumps in his arms, wraps his legs around his waist, his arms around Jason's neck. _

_A nurse at the front desk checks them out, finding how much their insurance would cover and how much they need to pay. As they leave, Jason's face is pale, desperation etched in his soul. Sam's hand wraps tightly around his own while they walk out together reminding him that he needs to pay attention to protect Sam from walking into the road without looking, one of his new inherent flaws. He takes his son directly back to their hotel room and takes a shower. Thankfully, Sam does not ask much of him that night for his nurse at the hospital had allowed him to take one of their toy trains home, so he is very preoccupied. Later that evening, after a room serviced dinner and reading through a good majority of his son's recently diagnosed condition, Jason feels much better. He takes Sam outside and down the street to a large park where they walk around happily in the dusky night. The world is not gone, everything it is not entirely over yet. _

_They stay in Philly for a week before driving back to Ottawa. Sam begins to act more like he used to with the medication for his ASD as it helps him comprehend more easily and function with the disorder. Two different medications later, Sam's seizures finally stop. Jason cries and throws a party, inviting all who knew. Sam isn't quite sure what is going on but everyone seems to be happy so he is happy too. _

_The father and son begin their long journey down the winding road of recovery. Jason decides that all he can do is give Sam the unconditional love he deserves and help him whenever he can. Sam is happy and that is all that matters. They hit some rough patches in the road but they held each other's hands and walked through it one day at a time._

'_Everything is worth it when your son curls into you in bed and whispers, "I love you, Daddy."'_ Jason thinks as his thoughts drift into blackness, his mind still focused on his lovely son he loves so much. He can only pray their bond has not been forever broken.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ I hope it is understandable why it took me so long to write this chapter. Thank you so much for reading and please review! Final chapter coming soon!_


	3. Of a Volcano

_**The Edge: Of a Volcano**_

KANDAHAR, Afghanistan

Over the next few days, Matt's shoulder is healed enough for him to be able to help Sam with most things. Sam is healing slowly but he still finds it difficult to walk so he kept in the confines of a wheelchair whenever traveling, which was mostly to see his father. Jason is 'recovering nicely' as his doctor had put it but there could be some permanent repercussions even with extensive physical therapy. Sam spends nearly every day in his father's room either sitting in his wheelchair or if they felt like being bad boys, Jason would help his son into the bed to lay with him. Although it was against protocol, the doctors and nurses couldn't bring themselves to disturb the sleeping father and son, Sam curled into his dad and Jason's protective arms wrapped around his boy.

Sam wheels himself into his daddy's room just as the doctor is in the middle of a deep conversation with General Braddock.

"Oops!" He squeaks quietly, realizing he has interrupted.

He looks around trying to figure out how to turn himself around when he father speaks.

"Samuel, come here, son. It's alright, we are finished here, aren't we doc?" The doctor nods politely and skirts out of the room, being careful to not hit the young Master Corporal with the door.

With great effort, Sam manages to wheel himself over to the bed.

"Sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to interrupt. I could have left, really! I'm sorry." He hangs his head.

"Oh Sammy, don't talk like that. You were not interrupting, we were finished. Don't be even a bit sorry, I love seeing my Pooh Bear." Jason smiles widely.

'_He looks lonely.'_ Sam notes. _'Has he even gotten out of bed yet? Have they helped him walk around at all?'_

"Daddy, have you walked around yet?"

The General licks his lips and swallows before putting on an almost sickeningly fake smile. "Not just quite yet, Sammy but don't you worry sweetheart they're going to help me later tonight."

"No they're not." Sam quickly notices his father's lie. He could always tell when his daddy was lying.

His father sighs heavily. "Fine, they're going to start doing PT next week. They say I'm not ready yet and _you_ don't need to worry about me."

"Are you still sick, Daddy?" Sam asks, worry thick in his voice as he clutches his father's hand.

Jason pats Sam's hand and gently squeezes back. "Just a bit." He answers. A few moments pass before The General turns the attention on his son. "Have you been up and walking any?"

He expects that his son has not and considering the extent of his injuries especially to his back, that is very acceptable. To his surprise, Sam nods.

"Matt has helped me walk a little, but I haven't left the room or anything. I just want you to get better, Daddy." He whimpers, tears welling in his eyes.

"I want you to get better as well." He comments softly.

Just as he reaches over to wipe the tears from his son's eyes, the door suddenly flings open. Five heavily armed men dressed entirely in black enter, guns raised and pointed at the father and son.

Sam, startled by the noise, jolted backwards to the corner on his father's left hand side adjacent to the bed, his eyes wild and frightened. Jason stares helplessly at his son, unable to comfort him since Sam is now out of reach. A female voice begins speaking.

"You, Jason, are a very hard man to kill indeed." She growls. "Two bullets to the chest, nearly six and a half miles away from the closest compound and you _still_ lived? Impressive. You would never had made it if it weren't for _Samuel_." She spats, angrily stressing his son's name. "Today is different, however. You _will_ die. Both of you; for I am sick of dealing with your ongoing _shit_ and _excuses_. Sure, the chateau was nice but _nothing_ will be better than revenge. The rightful General will take his throne this afternoon after your tragic deaths. I guess you should have told someone about your PTSD Jason, before you turned your gun on your onlyson and then on yourself."

Jason stares in horror as he hears how this will all go down and how these people are going to cover-up their 'murder.' No, he will not allow _anyone_ touch his son. Sam was _his_ baby and only his.

"Come out and say it to my face, bitch." He growls dangerously.

A figure emerges from in between the hefty men, a smug smile painted on her face.

"Hello, Jason. Miss me?" She asks snarkily, the smile never leaving her face as he clenches his jaw very tightly.

She surveys the room, smiling icily at Samuel. _'Perfect. They are both immobile. This should be very, very fun.'_ She crouches down in front of Sam as Jason's anger boils since he cannot protect his son.

"Do you remember me, Sam?" She asks quietly but her tone biting as she raises his chin so his eyes meet hers. She has made one, very big mistake in her perfect plan. Touching. Sam's. Face.

Inside, Jason is screaming for joy and turning cartwheels, on the outside, he allows himself to crack a smile as his son goes ballistic.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING! GET YOUR SLUTTY HANDS OFF ME! DON'T YOU DARE LAY ANOTHER HAND ON ME! DON'T EVER THINK YOU CAN TOUCH ME AGAIN!" He screams bloody murder.

He pushes her away with a shocking amount of force as she stumbles backwards into her 'crew.' All guns are trained on Sam. Jason holds his breath as the hand she had been holding up slightly in the air signaling to hold fire, drops.

"SAM!" He screams throwing himself at his wheelchair-bound son.

The force of the two bullets knocks the wind out of Jason as he collapses half across his son's lap. He struggles for breath as he pushes himself off Sam and frantically turns to check on his son.

"Sam! Sammy no! No!" He cries, pushing his son's head up. "Look at me baby! Talk to me! Please! Don't give up on me now, sweetie!"

Sam's eyes are only slits as a hand is shoved into the hole dangerously close to his heart in attempts to staunch the blood. He gasps for air and his eyes are growing duller by the second.

"No, no baby, stay with me. You're going to be okay, Sammy. I'm going to take care of you. Please don't give up on me, Pooh Bear!" Jason begs.

Sam weakly lifts his head to see the attackers that will very likely be his murders.

"Mom?" He asks horrified, his mind registering the face that she had done the unthinkable – she had, had _touched_ him. Touched him! Yet, worse, touched his _face!_ No one, _no one,_ touches Samuel William Braddock's face except his father.

She smiles smugly at him. "You remembered." She sounded as if she were speaking to a young child and slightly surprised.

His hurt, betrayed face burned itself her memory. _'He was such a handsome boy.'_ She thinks watching his eyes close for what is most likely the final time before she turns around. She hears her husband shout his son's name as he catches his limp body that is falling forwards out of his wheelchair. She doesn't need to see, to know what is happening. Jason is cradling his son, pleading for him to hang on a little longer.

'_He'll be weakening soon himself and finally let Sam rest in peace.'_

She had nothing against Sam other than he was the final obstacle that was preventing her son from becoming the General and he such an easy target for her to take her anger out on.

Jason feels the vital substance leaking out of his own body. He painfully looks down at his chest which is now fully covered in his own blood. His breath catches in his throat as he glances back at his son. His hand is stained with Sam's blood. His own bullet wounds aren't too bad, only the highest one pierced through his body and embedded itself into his precious son's chest. The second bullet had hit a bit lower, both had cleared his heart by miles it seemed.

"Jaqueline!" He chokes. "Why? Why are you doing this to Sam?!" He sobs, holding his son's hand with his free one.

"Well, Jason he _was_ the weakest link in the family: the child. He had to be disposed of. Jason, you need to take care of yourself if you want to live a little longer. Just face it, sweetheart; Sammy isn't going to make it this time." She places a hand on her husband's shoulder. "But you, you might be able to talk me out of – let's say, leaving you both here to bleed out and die." She paws at Jason chest, her eyes uncharacteristically sincere.

"How?" He squeaks.

"Maybe, you could – you know, give me some of your love." She states hopefully, fingering through her husband's thick blonde hair.

Jason seems to contemplate this proposal for a moment, he is honestly just trying to find words to describe even a tenth of his emotions.

"You're a fucking crazy bitch!" He shouts, anger and astonishment that she wants to have _sex_ after she just put two bullets through him and could have killed his son. "What the hell is wrong with your brain?! Here? Now? In front of everyone?! Have you lost your damn mind?! Yeah, I'm gonna drop my pants to give a bitch like you some _love_? It's not like I'm trying to keep _my_ _son_ _alive_ or anything right now! Not that you didn't order he be killed! Get outta my face, whore! You killed my son and you want sex?! Or do you want to molest Sam a little more before he's dead?! You're – you're a ******************************!"

Jaqueline seems to be taken aback quite a bit at the slew of angry comments.

"Fine. Your choice. I might take you up on that part about Sam."

Jason just about pukes in her face. "Go to hell. You go straight to hell. You have done enough to this boy without needing to force yourself on him anymore. You molested him and fucked up his _entire life!_"

"Jason I was joking." She says rolling her eyes. "Anyway, since you denied my offer, we'll have to do this the hard way. Secure the doors." She snaps as Jason begins screaming for help. "Snap out of it. No one is going to hear you and no one is going to come to your little rescue because of your order for no one but doctors to enter. Your own security sealed your own death." She states, sitting down in a chair. "You know, if you change your mind, just interrupt me and we'll let you go."

"Go to hell." Jason growls.

She raises her eyebrows as to say 'fine, whatever.' "You're the stupid one. You -"

"I am going to be the General!" A loud, young voice booms.

"Alexi! I told you to wait outside. This is a _personal_ matter." Jaqueline snaps, eyeing whom Jason assumes is her son.

"And you're just as crazy as your mother." Jason mutters loud enough for the boy to hear.

"What did you just say?" Alexi growls.

"I said you're just as crazy as the bitch that gave you life."

"Ha! Well, that being said by the _dead man_ I think I'm doing pretty good. Your _son_ is going to be dead soon, too. So who's going to be the next General? Hmm…well Mrs. Braddock has a son and since he's the only male child with the Braddock name, he must be General." Alexi smirks in Jason's face.

"You can't be more than eighteen. You honestly think the Canadian military will allow an eighteen-year-old with no army experience whatsoever to be The General of all Canada's army? You must be on crack." Jason scoffs.

"Mum, is he right? You promised this would be easy, that this would get me in automatically. Does he speak the truth?!" Alexi shouts.

"Alexi, settle. I told you what I told you, now do you not believe, son?"

"I want to know if this is going to work! I want to know if he speaks truth!"

"Alexi,"

"NOW!" He shouts furiously.

'_Sheesh, what a brat. She must've married another Canadian, it must have been my Russian bloods that kept Sam so grounded.'_ Jason thinks, smiling a bit. He had no idea of Alexi's nationality but he was sure he was only a brat because of the women who raised him.

While still tending to his son, Jason notices his wife (from whom he really needs to get a divorce) raising her hands in the air, surrendering.

"Okay, Alexi, listen to me and please don't get upset." She pauses. "Yes, Jason has a point. There is a very slim chance of you being placed in Jason's position without years of tours and rising in the army's ranks; but there is a chance of you being fast-tracked so you would not have to complete all of the extensive tours." She rushes.

"How could you lie to me like that?! You said this would fix it! This would fix everything! You said _I_ would be the General _tonight_! How could you do that to me?!" The teenager shouts furiously.

He glares angrily to his right where Jason is sucking for air, his face grey but he continues to apply pressure to his son's wound. He can still feel Sam's weak heart beating. There is still hope. Alexi's face immediately softens as he stares in horror at what his mother had done to these two men – his step-brother and -father.

"Oh my God. Oh my God! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" He cries sinking to his knees in front of Jason. "Let me help! What can I do to help?"

"Towel. Get me a towel." Jason labours on his words. Alexi hurries back with a towel, ignoring his mother's hunch-men's angered grumbles about him helping the enemy.

"Now what?" He asks as his step-father takes and shoves the towel into his own bloodied chest.

It then dawns on Alexi that The General has been shot as well, not just his son.

"What about him? Should I get another towel?" He asks hurriedly.

Jason shakes his head 'no'. "The blood is already clotting. If I move my hand, he'll start bleeding again and surely bleed out then." He stares with tear-stained cheeks at the motionless boy he cradles in his arms and lap.

"Please! What can I do?! I didn't know; I didn't know! I'm sorry! Please let me help him!" The emotional teenager pleads.

"Get help." Jason whispers weakly, his eyes beginning to close from the excessive loss of blood.

Alexi nods and runs off, pushing his way through the startled men.

"Let him go." Jaqueline states loudly as her men begin to follow her son to take him down. "They surely won't survive surgery, if they even make it that far. Come. We are finished here. It is done." Just as quickly as they had come, they are gone.

Jason struggles with every breath but he must keep fighting – fighting for his son who lay dying in his arms. Sam's pulse is fading quickly, he has lost too much blood. He is surprised he survived this long. Just as Jason's body could no longer fight the overpowering blackness, Alexi burst through the door with teams of doctors and nurses. They rush to Jason first but he viciously objects.

"Sam." He croaks, trying to hand his near lifeless son to the doctor just as all his strength has left him from the energy expended opening his eyes.

The doctor understands. He and his team gently lift the JTF2 Master Corporal onto the awaiting gurney and rush him down the hallway into the OR shouting for instruments and bags. The second team has more of a struggle with Jason. He can hardly move yet they help him stand and lay down onto his stretcher as they follow the same procedure as they did with his son. Alexi runs down the hall with him, holding Jason's hand whimpering 'I'm sorry' until they pry him away from his unconscious step-father.

**Three Days Later:**

The General's eyes slowly open for the first time since they had slid shut on the frantic trip to the OR. He remembers his step-son had been running beside him, holding his hand tightly whispering his apologies until he had slipped unconscious.

'_Sam.'_ He thinks, frantically finding the call button and pressing it ten thousand times.

Three nurses come running in, gently pressing him back down onto the bed. "Sam. Sam!" He keeps repeating. "Where is my son?!" He finally shouts.

"He's in a Post-Op ICU room next door, sir." A nurse states gently.

"Oh my God. Oh God! He's alive?" He squeals joyfully. "Oh thank God! Is he going to be okay?"

"He has been okay so far, sir." She answers.

"I need to see him. No, he needs to be in here with me. We need a full protection detail. A group of people tried to murder my son and me." He rushes.

"Yes sir, we are aware of the situation and you are very protected as is your son."

"No, I need to be with him. He needs to be with me. You don't understand! He will be scared and needs to be with me, ma'am. Now." Jason states with urgency as weak as he is.

"Yes sir, I'll speak with his doctor to see if we are able to transport him." She states calmly and leaves to find Sam's doctor. She had to ruffle a few tail feathers but managed for Sam to be transported into his father's room but she needed to warn Mr. Braddock of a few things before he saw his son.

"General Braddock, sir?" She asks. He nods and she continues. "They are prepping your son for transport now but I need to inform you that Sam is currently on life support. The surgery went well but sir, there was a significant amount of damage to parts of his organs due to the excessive blood loss. We have been giving him plenty of blood and fluids but he is still in what some call a 'blood deficiency coma'. Typically, once the body has been given enough blood and rest, the patient will wake and everything will begin going back to normal."

Jason swallows hard. "But he will be okay once he wakes, right?"

"Yes sir, almost every patient we have had with this has been just fine."

The General allows a sigh of relief to escape him. Through the slit of the window in the door, he spots Matt's worried face.

"Ma'am? Am I allowed no visitors at this time?" He asks, genuinely unsure of the answer.

"The hospital has placed several armed guards in front of both you and your son's rooms. No one but a single nurse and your assigned doctor is allowed entrance." She answers.

"Oh. If I may, can I request a short list of people that could visit us?"

"I can ask the doctor as well as security and I'll get back to you on that right away, sir."

"Thank you." Jason states softly as he lays his head back down on his pillow thoroughly exhausted.

A few moments after the nurse leaves, a team of nurses and one doctor steers his son's bed into the room, locking the wheels so the bed does not move. Jason weakly turns his head to view his motionless son. Bags of blood and fluids drip into his son's body, his heart monitor beeps slowly, his ventilator hisses with every false breath forced into his lungs, a pulse oximeter is clipped onto his index finger and the BP cuff makes a whirring noise every time it takes his son's blood pressure. He reaches across and slowly lays a hand on Sam's cold one. Tears well in his eyes as his and his son's doctors enter the room.

"Oh, good, General Braddock. You're awake." Sam's doctor, Dr. Keshri, states rather happily. "I'm sure the nurse has briefed you on your son's current condition."

Jason nods, struggling to brush the tears from his eyes. "I apologize for my uncontrolled emotions, doctor."

"That is quite alright, General Braddock. You and Sam have been through quite a lot." Dr. Keshri reminds him. "You are both very strong men and I assure you that as soon as Sam's body retains enough blood to be able to function on its own, he will be just fine."

They exchange a few more words before Jason falls asleep, exhaustion from the past few days claiming his body. Over the course of the next day, he comprises his short list of people allowed to visit them including Matthew and Alexi, if he wanted. Both young men, as well as Sam's CO spend plenty of time with their fallen friend. Sam still has not awoken and The General is growing anxious. Jason is becoming much stronger and is able to walk a bit on his own. The only thing keeping him in the hospital is his son but he never leaves Sam's side.

**1 WEEK LATER**

Sam's dull blue eyes open slowly as he glances around the room.

'_I don't think it used to look like this. I must be in a different room. This might not even be the same hospital.'_ He notices a strong ammonia smell and much brighter lights than the dim compound lighting and dusty scent of his K-Bar camp. He notes how large the room is and how someone else is sharing it with him. Sam weakly reaches for the large remote that lays beside his hand. He presses the 'call' button for a nurse.

A fair, ginger-haired nurse enters slowly, holding a syringe of clear fluid in her hand.

"It's alright Master Corporal Braddock." She soothes.

"Where am I?" Sam whispers hoarsely.

"Kabul. You were transferred here from your compound in Kandahar yesterday. You are a very hard man to stabilize for transport." She chuckles gently, trying to lift the heavy mood. "Your father, General Jason Braddock, is resting in the other bed. He had to be heavily sedated in order for them to get him on the plane. He wanted to make sure you were going to be okay. You have been given your medications as prescribed and we were going to keep your father mildly sedated until you woke. We feared he would injure himself if he awoke and found you in such a state. You have been in very serious condition, Master Corporal."

The twenty-one-year-old sighs heavily.

"Tell Daddy I love him. I gotta go. Beddie-bye-time now." Sam mumbles sleepily, his eyes quickly drooping closed.

The nurse smiles and gently pulls the sheet over her patient's sleeping form, injecting the pain medication into his IV. Jason wakes later that evening, very pleased to be told Sam had woken earlier and fallen asleep. Both father and son wake the next morning around eight. They are both on a very slow road to recovery but they cherish every moment they have with each other.

Another week later, Jason is firmly holding onto his son's shaking body as and two nurses help Sam walk across the room. They irrupt into cheers as the Special Forces Master Corporal reaches the opposite side. A wide, lopsided smile is painted on his face as his father scoops him up, placing a gentle kiss on Sam's nose.

"I'm so proud of you." Jason whispers into his son's ear.

That night, he lowers Sam into his bed and climbs in next to him, wrapping his arms around the young body curled into him. The twenty-one-year-old sleeps soundly in his father's arms and both are asleep by twenty thirty. The next day, Matt arrives at the hospital. As he is about to enter, he notices Jason and Sam talking about something that looked very important. He stays behind the door and watches the interaction between father and son through the small panel of glass. He smiles as The General pulls something out of his pocket and hands it his son: the keys to his prized red Corvette at home in Ottawa. Jason smiles gently and fully embraces his son.

"Happy 16th birthday, Sammy."

_In a dark room very far away:_

"They survived." A thick-accented man growls murderously. "They _will_ be taken care of…very, very soon. We simply have to _wait_ before we _strike_." He snaps the neck of the rabbit he had been petting in his lap and drops it to the ground; two King Cobras come slithering out of the darkness towards their dying prey. The man's hollow, ominous laugh fills the room with an eerie uneasiness before – in unison – the snakes _strike._

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Thank you so much for reading! Please review! This is Book One in the E3 Trilogy. All book titles begin with the letter 'e', have three chapters each and it's a trilogy (hence the name__). We'll see what's going to happen with the Braddocks and just how the snake-man plans to strike in Book 2. Chapter 1 of The Escape is coming up next and will be posted very shortly! Please review! _


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